


Everything You Know Is Wrong

by withoutspeaking



Category: U2 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Cheating, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flashbacks, Infidelity, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Divorce, Zoo TV Tour (U2)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 06:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 33,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18132197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutspeaking/pseuds/withoutspeaking
Summary: Set mainly during the ZooTV/AB era during the breakup of Edge's marriage - will he finally find true love?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My very first U2 fanfic - written in 2010, and I am posting it on the archive now for the very first time. A bit AU with no Ali in the scene but trying to stay true to fact where possible. This is a non-slash fic but it's not going to be a Mary-Sue, it will be full of angst and darkness I'm hoping...

Sometimes, Bono was insufferable.

“Why not?” he pleaded as he blew smoke out of the side of his upturned mouth, just over my shoulder into the wall behind me.

“Because I’ve been running on 2 hours of sleep every day for a week. I need to relax tonight, Bono. I can’t do this every night..."

He stepped back and stared so deeply into me I could feel it in the back of my head.

“All right. All right”.

And on his heel, walked away.

It was like this now. More often than not. I could feel him slipping away, dripping out of my fingers like candle wax. Gone.

All I had known was Bono. For this many years it was Bono. I loved him unequivocally. I rarely dwelled on his faults and celebrated his victories. I loved him like no other, but I felt him slipping nonetheless.

We met at Mount Temple. I didn’t fancy him. At first.

“Ciara, why don’t you just say yes?”

This unrelenting boy who chased me for 6 straight months. The strange boy who called himself Bono Vox of O'Connell Street. The beautiful boy who could have most any girl in the form but wanted exactly none of them all the same.

“OK Bono. I’ll go. I’ll go and see your band.”

The Dandelion Market. Where I’d spend my weekends that summer and into autumn watching him and three friends on a tiny stage with aspirations of becoming something.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Berlin - November, 1990

These were dark days.

  
Berlin felt like an apocalyptic wasteland – cold and calculating, dark and dreary… so full of doom which enveloped the recording of the new album that I wasn’t sure if I’d make it out in one piece.  Or with anything left to give, for that matter.  
  
_Whose idea was it to come here again?_  
  
I often found myself retreating, alone, to a small dive bar on a quiet and lonely back street a few blocks away from the studio.  It was just small enough and just out of the way enough that no one knew my name, real or otherwise.  
  
I found myself there again today.  A nod to the barman and in front of me I quickly find the usual - cheap Irish whiskey, neat, of course.  This was no place for rock star pretence.  Not here.  Which is why I come.  
  
It didn’t matter that I couldn’t find a way for the music I had in the pit of my stomach to come out of me. Here, no one cared that everything I ever knew was falling apart.  Nor did it matter that she didn’t love me anymore.  
  
It was over.  I should have been at home to try to pick up the pieces or try to make it work, but here I was in a numb, grey, divided city, trying to make sense of my life.   
  
_It’s perfect.  It’s what I deserve._  
  
I ran my finger up and down the side of my glass, wondering if I just might find the answers in the bottom of one some day.  If not this one, maybe in the three after that…  
  
I was startled when he pulled out a bar stool next to me.    
  
“Ciara told me I’d find you here,” Bono announced.  “I’ll have the same,” he nodded at the barman and then threw back his whiskey as quickly as it was presented.  
  
“Edge, we’re really worried about you,” he admitted as he lit one of those horrid little cigarillos he had taken to smoking now, shaking out the match over my shoulder.  
  
“I’m OK, I’ll be OK,” I muttered, downing the rest of my whiskey in one shot as I signalled the bartender to bring us each another.  
  
“Don’t lie to me,” Bono demanded as he removed the sunglasses that seemed to be a permanent part of his face these days.  
  
“I don’t know what you expect me to say, Bono,” I shrugged.  “It’s very hard.  But you wouldn’t really know about that now, would you.”  
  
I was involved in enough late night conversations with Ciara about his refusal to commit to her that I knew he couldn’t possibly relate to the upheaval I was dealing with right now.   
  
“This is not about me,” he said flatly.   
  
“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said that, Bono.”  
  
I looked down into my glass, feeling ashamed at how I was letting my depression consume me.  I was becoming a very bitter man, and I hated myself for it.   
  
“Edge, we really do care about you.  I can’t stand to see you like this – it affects all of us.  There’s nothing you can do, it’s over for good, isn’t it?”  
  
“I suppose it is, yes.  However, I can’t help but wonder if there was still something I could do if only I was back at home right now …”  
  
“Is that what this is about?  You honestly believe that if you were back in Ireland you would have a chance of working things out with her?  Edge, I’m sorry, but you know… you KNOW that isn’t true.  Don’t make this about Berlin, or the album or my silly idea that we need to be here.  I’m already feeling guilty enough about that myself.”  
  
I knew he was right, but I wouldn’t let him know that or I’d never hear the end of it.  I simply nodded and slowly sipped my drink, staring across the empty room at a small TV playing highlights from the Bayern Munich game at the weekend.  
  
“Edge, please.  You can’t undo what’s already been done, you have to stop being so hard on yourself.”  
  
“I suppose it just comes too naturally for me,” I admitted as I downed the rest of my whiskey and placed some money under the empty glass, enough to cover both rounds plus a generous tip, as usual.  
  
“Bono, I do need to go, I need to get back to the studio.”  
  
_That evening, I would write most of the guitar line for ‘One’. Several months later, Aislinn and I would separate for good._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New York City - September, 1987

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gibson ES-295 is a very beautiful guitar used as a muse for this scene - Google it. It was a guitar I don't believe he ever used on anything of note, you'll see why that's perfect ;) And Rudy's Music Stop is a real store in NYC. I took a bit of a leap with Edge getting the guitar in NYC but it would have been sometime around the JT/R&H era.

“Will you come with me to pick up a guitar?” Edge asked, smiling at me with a boyish grin.  “I’d take Bono, but …”  
   
I shook my head, “Edge, I feel so awkward in a guitar shop, do I have to?”  
   
I felt odd going into musician places with musicians.  It was like dragging a man into a lingerie store.  I thought the guitars were beautiful, but I didn’t know the first thing about them.  What good was I when all I had to offer was “it looks really nice, it’s a lovely colour!”  Mind you, the only time I’d been in a guitar shop was with Bono, so it might be a bit more interesting going with Edge.   
  
“He’ll be okay, you can leave him alone for a couple of hours you know,” Edge implored as he stuck his chin out like a little boy and raised his eyebrows at me.  
   
Damn him, I can never say no when he does that.  
   
That night last week in Washington could have been disastrous with Bono losing his balance on the slippery stage, wrenching his shoulder yet still continuing with the show.  I begged him to get to the hospital that night, but stubborn as he was, he was having none of it.  He changed his mind the next morning when he couldn’t even move his arm and whined at me for an hour before I finally convinced him to go.   
   
He had done the last few shows in a sling but was miserable with pain as he understandably refused to do any of the shows medicated.  As soon as he got back to the hotel though, he would end the evening with a stiff drink of water and a few painkillers.  I spent this last week watching him sleep like a baby and struggling to wake him up in the morning.  I admired his professionalism as he struggled through the pain to play these important shows and continue with filming the concert movie they were working on.  Not only was I with a rock star, he’d soon be a film star as well!  Sometimes I longed to be back in Dublin with a normal bloke, but that would mean giving up Bono, and there was no way I was about to do that.  
   
Edge interrupted my thoughts, putting his hand on my shoulder.  “Rudy is keeping the shop open, please come with me?”  
   
This would be another adventure.  It had gone far beyond just going down to the local and having a few pints in relative obscurity. They might do well enough in Champaign, Illinois but in New York City?  Forget it.  Everywhere they went there were autograph hunters, photojournalists and screaming girls.  Beautiful, screaming girls. I knew Edge hated asking for things like keeping a guitar shop open so he could have some peace and quiet, but it was par for the course now, especially when one went out with our Bono.  
   
“Okay Edge, I suppose I can carry it home for you,” I gave in, smiling, “but you think no one is going to recognize you in that hat?” I laughed, tugging on the brim of his black Stetson that I was sure he probably slept in.  
   
He grinned and waved me off, chuckling.   
   
“All right then.  Our ride will be here at half seven.  Have a drink with me first?  I’m always nervous right before I meet my new guitar,” he winked at me, motioning over to the hotel bar.  
   
“OK, I think I’ll need one myself if you’re dragging me into a guitar shop,” I nodded, following him into the dark bar of the historic old hotel.  
   
I still didn’t feel like I belonged in a place like this, all mahogany wood and golden chandeliers, brass fixtures and old money.  If I felt uncomfortable, I could only imagine what the clientele thought of Edge in his Navajo pattern shirt and holes in the knees of his jeans.  I’d have been thrown out of a place like this within minutes if my date didn’t play the guitar in a band called U2.  
   
As we walked through the bar at the receiving end of a few sideways glances, it certainly didn’t trouble Edge.  He had a Zen-like calm about him that surrounded him like a warm blanket.  He was the complete opposite of Bono in that respect – where Bono was all piss and vinegar, wearing his heart on his sleeve much more often than he should, Edge confronted everything with a careful and measured approach, always thinking before he spoke or acted.  
   
We settled into a deep plush booth in the corner, far away from the lobby and any chance of acknowledgment by uninvited guests.  
   
“Two pints of Guinness,” Edge whispered to the waiter who walked up to the table.  He smiled a polite look of recognition and Edge held out his hand and waited for the server to hand him his pen so he could sign an autograph for him.  
   
“I know you can’t ask, but I can offer,” he said, scrawling his name on the back of the bar pad and handing it back to the doting fan.  
   
“Thank you, sir, I’ll have your drinks to you right away,” the waiter beamed as he rushed off to the bar to obtain two perfect pints for his Irish guests.  
   
One thing I admired was that through all the recent madness in which The Joshua Tree had made them a household name, they still never forgot their fans, and I knew they never would.  They were still just four boys from the North side of Dublin to me and I don’t know that I’d ever get used to them being more than that, it was definitely going to be hard.  
   
“Do you ever miss your old life, Edge?” I asked after I had a Guinness firmly in hand, taking a sip and looking over my glass at him.  
   
“Not really,” he answered quickly, “I feel like I haven’t done enough yet, there’s still so much more.  There’s no way I would have done any of this if I were stuck back in Dublin.  I’d probably be working at a bank or something.”  
   
I wondered at him.  He’d played with and earned the respect of musical legends, the band had made the cover of Time magazine, this morning they had just got word that their album had sold 3 million copies in the US, and still there was more?   
   
We finished our pints and headed out to the waiting town car.  It was only about a 5 minute trip to the music store just off Broadway on West 48th.  Edge had been telling me over our pint how legendary the place was, and I was starting to get a bit star struck when he told me some of the guitarists who frequented the place.  Edge was far too modest to admit that he was up there with them, now.  
   
Rudy Pensa was a jovial man who treated Edge like an old friend when we arrived, ushering us to the back room where he motioned to the stools against the wall.  On the walls hung a wide collection of beautiful instruments and the whole place smelled of cherry wood and promise.  
   
The guitar was beautiful.  It had a lovely gold tone finish, which shone under the light when you tilted it.  I smiled at Edge as he took the new guitar from Rudy’s hands, a wide grin across his lips.  He looked like an excited little boy at Christmastime who had just opened his favourite present.  I was glad I had come, this was something special to Edge and I was flattered he chose me to share it with him in Bono’s absence.  
   
“I’ll just let you have some time alone with her?” Rudy suggested. “I’ll just be out front whenever you’re ready.  Now be sure about it, whatever you do, all right?”  
   
Edge nodded, still beaming as he left us alone in the room, closing the door quietly behind him.  
   
“Elvis’ guitarist had one of these you know,” he boasted, “she’s called a Gibson ES-295. I’ve always wanted one and thought it would look really nice in the film.  At least that’s the way I’m justifying it.”  
   
Edge took a plectrum from his pocket and strummed a few introductory chords.  The guitar sounded bright and beautiful under Edge’s skilled hands.  
   
“What would you like me to play for you?” he inquired, settling on the stool and adjusting the strap to fit perfectly on his shoulder.   
   
“Oh Edge, I can’t answer that.  What does she want you to play?” I laughed, joking at the way musicians tended to refer to their instruments as ladies.  
   
Edge pondered for a while and continued strumming gentle chords as I watched him intently.   
   
“Oh, I know … I know just the song,” he decided as he began to play  _Running To Stand Still_.   
   
“Oh Edge,” I blushed, “is that really what she wanted you to play?” It was my favourite song from the new album.  
   
He smirked at me and continued to play as I sat there in awe.  Sometimes when I watched him on stage he retreated into his own little world, eyes closed, a serene look on his face while his fingers seemed to float over the strings of their own volition.  The sound that came out of his guitar was often otherworldly in its brilliance and could bring me to tears if it found me in a melancholy mood.  Bono may have been the lyricist and the personality but Edge was the heart and soul of the band, creating glorious soundscapes unlike anyone else writing music at the time.  I truly believed that Edge had no idea how extraordinary he was; content to live in Bono’s shadow.  
   
“I’ve never heard you sing,” he coaxed, snapping me out of my thoughts.  “I’ll sing with you if you want.  This is why I usually bring your lad with me.”  
   
“Edge, I can’t sing,” I giggled, “are you taking the piss?”  
   
“I’m not joking, come on … I need to know if she’s the right one,” he said, deadpan, as he started to sing.  
   
Edge’s tone was soft and inviting.  He rarely had the chance to sing with Bono in his band, but when he did he proved he had quite a lovely voice of his own.  This was the first time he’d ever sung just for me and I was overwhelmed by the emotion in his voice.  Soon I was singing along with him quietly and when he finished the song, a warm grin spread across his face.  
   
“She’s beautiful,” he mused, “I think I’ll keep her.”  
   
He set the guitar down carefully and moved his stool nearer to mine.  He took off his ever-present black hat, set it on an empty seat next to him and looked up at me, his green eyes sparkling with gold.  He moved closer to me, his knees now touching mine and I saw him swallow hard as he put his hand on the back of my neck, caressing it lightly with his thumb.    
   
He leaned into me and pressed his nose to mine, parting his lips, his shallow breath tickling my skin.  
   
My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt faint.  We had shared friendly hugs often enough, but this was something different entirely.  
   
_Oh, Lord.  He was going to kiss me. Oh, Edge._  
   
Please let this be terrible, please let this be nothing special.  Edge, please …  
   
“Kiss me,” I said softly.  
   
Before I knew it his lips were on mine; I had given him the okay, when it was most definitely not okay.   
 


	4. Chapter 4

_I was kissing her._

After keeping my feelings for her at bay for nearly a decade, I truly had no idea why I chose tonight to do so. It wasn’t the Guinness, I’d only had the one, and I’d definitely been inebriated around her more often than I’d care to admit. Why tonight?

If pressed, I would suggest it was the way she looked at me when I played for her. That must have been it. I’d never played for her alone. In a group, yes, but just the two of us? Never like this. She wouldn’t even come near the studio when we were recording, she had always joked that she “didn’t want to be Yoko”. Tonight, however, there was just something in her eyes that forced me to take the risk.

Would she push me away or would she kiss me back? Smash my immaculate yet unpaid Gibson ES-295 right over my head?

And if she did kiss me back, would it be warmly? Willingly? Wantonly?

When she whispered  _kiss me_ , all bets were off.

_And oh, it was lovely; she was so lovely …_

And so … here I was … kissing Bono’s girl in the back room of a dusty old guitar shop in Midtown Manhattan while he was laid up on painkillers at a posh hotel not a mile away. The mere thought was dreadful. Yet here she was, kissing me back and stroking my hair as she did; her mouth was soft under mine and her misty eyes hinting she may possibly have feelings for me as well.

_Bono, I’m so sorry. Aislinn, I’m so terribly sorry …_

*   *   *

“Edge …” I choked out, as our lips finally parted.

I’d kissed him back. I’d really kissed him back.

I couldn’t overlook how it felt just right, like something that had been missing between us for so many years. I knew we both felt it. Yet, I had to quell such thoughts from my head. He was most certainly not an option, no matter how caught up in the moment I felt right then.

“You know we can’t do this … we can’t …”

My voice trailed off and it was all I could do to stifle the tears welling up inside me.

I hugged him to me and buried my face in his hair, kissing his ear softly, my heart thudding away in my chest. I couldn’t look him in the eye right now or I felt as though I would never be able to look away again.

“Oh Ciara, don’t cry … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have – I don’t know what I was thinking … I don’t know what came over me … I don’t know why I just did that … I’m so sorry,” Edge sputtered and stroked my cheek tenderly, wiping away one rogue tear that had escaped my resolve.

I pulled away and forced myself to look at him; his eyes softened when they met mine. He gazed at me woefully as he embraced me again and kissed me delicately on the cheek, lingering longer than he should have, his mouth moving against it as he spoke.

“Ciara, you mean too much to me to ruin what you have with Bono. We can forget this ever happened. I don’t want to ever lose you as a friend. You will always be my best friend …”

He held me to him for a long while as I struggled to keep myself together.

_Oh God, Edge, why do I feel like this? I don’t love you the same way I love Bono ... I don’t ..._

He placed another soft kiss on my cheek before taking my hand and standing up from the stool, stooping to pick up the new guitar that didn’t seem to matter much to him anymore. How could I watch him play it ever again?

I didn’t know what to say. What  _was_  there to say?

I never wanted to admit to myself what I felt for him that night as I watched him straighten his hair and put his hat back on, dejected.

We rode back to the hotel in silence with the guitar across our laps. Edge held my hand the whole way there.

I never saw him use that guitar again.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Good morning, love,” Bono spoke softly as he woke next to me, his voice groggy with sleep as he tied back his long, beautiful hair.

He leaned over and kissed my cheek, stroking my shoulder absently.

“Good morning,” I managed, my stomach twisting with shame. I could not meet his gaze.

I’d returned to the hotel with Edge and ended up lying awake most of the night listening to Bono’s content snoring while the guilt ate away at me bit by bit.

Edge and I parted quietly when we got back to the hotel, riding up in the elevator together silently and separating with a hushed goodnight when we arrived on our floor. Part of me wanted to go back to his room and talk things out, but I knew deep down that was a very dangerous thing to do; I feared I would begin to miss the feel of his kiss as it was recent enough that I could still taste him on my lips, his scent still lingering on my shirt. It would fade in time – it would have to – but I knew the only place for me to be right then was with Bono. My beautiful Bono.

_Oh, what had I done?_

“Ciara, what’s wrong?” Bono asked, continuing to caress my shoulder and then tilting my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his. “You feel so tense,” he whispered in my ear as he kissed it lightly, beginning to massage my shoulder lightly.

“I’m okay, just had a bad sleep last night,” I covered, giving him a crooked grin.

“All right, but if there’s anything wrong, you know you can tell me, love,” he encouraged, wincing a bit as he stopped massaging me briefly to adjust the sling on his arm.

No, Bono, I really can’t. 

It wasn’t as though I’d gone any further than a kiss with Edge, but the damage was done. Why did I feel so guilty? It was just a kiss ... 

“I’ll be fine,” I repeated, “and never mind me, how is your arm?” I changed the subject, hoping it sounded natural enough.

I was a terrible liar. 

“It still hurts like a bastard,” Bono cussed as he stepped out of bed, trudging off to the bathroom and leaving me alone in bed, the warmth of him replaced instantly with cool air.

I let out a deep sigh. He knew something was wrong; the only question now was how far he would push it. 

“So, was it everything Edge dreamed of?” he called from the bathroom.

His question startled me.

“Pardon me?”

_Oh my God, how could he know?_

“The guitar ... was it everything he dreamed of? He wouldn’t quit going on about the thing, I’m glad he finally got it at last.”

“Oh ... yes ... it was very lovely,” I replied, relieved, “he played a bit of Running To Stand Still for me in the shop, it was beautiful.”

“Oh – your favourite song, did he now. Watch out for him, he’s a charmer, you know ...” 

Was he joking? He was joking ... wasn’t he?

_I was paranoid._

“Are you coming to the sound check today?”

“Erm, I don’t know, Bono, I don’t know if I’ll make the show tonight, I might just have a quiet night in.”

As soon as it came out of my mouth, I regretted it. I had to face this, I couldn’t hide from it forever, and I had now made Bono very suspicious.

“What is wrong, Ciara?” Bono said, stepping out of the bathroom and peering at me from just outside the doorway.

“I’m just a bit overwhelmed is all ... with the fame, with the madness.” I decided to go with what I knew. I was overwhelmed. Very much so over the events of last night, certainly, but that was still only part of the picture. Things all around us were becoming larger than life, very quickly. Millions of albums, magazine covers, scores of sold out concerts – two nights in a row at Madison Square Garden, beginning tonight, in fact. And now, a movie, on top of it all? It was everything they’d ever dreamed of, but it was too fast, too soon, too much.

Bono sat on the bed next to me, taking my hand and stroking it gently. 

He pulled me into a kiss, familiar lips on mine, his arms circling me and embracing me in his warmth. 

“It’s mad, isn’t it,” he whispered against my ear, nipping gently on my earlobe, “but it’s a necessary madness. You won’t lose me in this, love, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It was very much what I was worried about. How could I possibly compete with models, actresses and all the striking women who were beginning to collect backstage after the shows, each one of them with their sights set on Bono and each one more beautiful than the last? I was just a dark-haired, brown-eyed Irish girl who lived down the road from him and happened to be in the same form. Maybe I was worried for nothing, but I knew Bono was a passionate soul and often acted before he thought things out fully. The thought scared me. Where would it leave me? What would I have on my CV if it ended today? 

_**Experience: The local chip shop, the local public house, and Bono Vox of U2’s girlfriend.** _

Perfect.

I watched the show that night from my usual spot on Edge’s side of the stage. Edge stole far too many glances at me over the piano during Running To Stand Still. Bono didn’t notice – he was too busy singing to the attractive group of girls in the front row.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madrid - May, 1993

I bade Bono goodbye backstage after the show in Spain.  He was flying back to Dublin with Larry that night to record some vocals for the new album and would be back just before the show in Nantes in a few days.  I could have gone with him but I had decided to stay back as it was my first time in Madrid.  As usual with most cities, I didn’t get to see enough of it as we’d just arrived yesterday afternoon and were leaving tomorrow night for France.  ZooTV was a grueling schedule of concerts, promos, video shoots and interviews, not to mention the band was feeling so prolific these days that they'd decided to fly back and forth to Dublin to record their next album in the middle of it all.

Edge and Adam had decided to stay back as well – I was meeting Edge for lunch tomorrow.  He was starting to lean on me a lot lately after finally separating from Aislinn.  It was very hard on him right now, as he had no sense of closure.  Ireland was so fucking backward it wasn’t even legal for them to divorce.  Although they were separated, he was trapped and he was despondent – unable to move on with his life or even consider it.  I couldn’t imagine.  It was sometimes the reality check I had needed whenever I started to get fed-up with my own situation with Bono.  We carried each other.   
   
Living out of a hotel room wasn’t all glamour – not even close.  I would spend long hours waiting for Bono to get back from interviews, photo shoots and goodness knows what else he got up to.  He very seldom told me where he was going these days.  But as always, I would wait.  
   
“Have a safe trip, Bono, I’ll miss you,” I said, cuddling him to me as wardrobe people milled about, going on about sunglasses and hats and shoes.   
   
“I’ll be fine, you just stay out of trouble, love,” he said mischievously, kissing my hand and then my lips tenderly.   
   
Bono and I rarely had moments of privacy; such was the life of a rock star’s girlfriend.  Acquaintance?  Lady friend?  Never fiancé … and  _certainly_  never wife.  
   
 _Would he ever make an honest woman out of me?  I doubted it.  It had been 13 years, why start now?_  
   
I thought everything might change after he finally became somewhat content that they had “made it” after Joshua Tree catapulted them into stardom in America ... but then his best friend started to have trouble with his own marriage.   
   
I snapped out of my thoughts as Bono hugged me tightly.  
   
“I love you,” he whispered to me, letting go of my hand with a flourish while he bowed dramatically and winked at me as he turned to leave.  Sometimes I wondered where the line between him and Mr. Macphisto ended these days.  
   
I rolled my eyes at him but as always, I felt empty and alone the moment he left.  When I went on tour with Bono I had no real female acquaintance to speak of outside of a couple of the crew who had their own lives and own husbands and children.  There was no one to go shopping with or to drink sangrias with on a café patio while discussing relationships.  Most of the band’s female staff worked behind the scenes back in Dublin.  Larry’s girlfriend seldom came on tour with us although I thought she was lovely, Aislinn stayed home with Edge’s children (I never really liked her anyway) and Adam, well, Adam had no ties to anyone or anything.  I envied him sometimes.  
   
One of the crew hailed a cab for me and soon I was on my way back to the Ritz, back to Bono’s suite so I could pack his suitcase for him and make sure it got to France.

 

* * *

   
It had been a couple of months since I had packed up and moved into Adam’s guesthouse.  Thank goodness I had the tour to take my mind off the mess my life was back home.  It was finally over, and although there was no official end in sight, I tried to be content with the way things were at present.  
   
I was still buzzing from the spectacular show tonight, there was just something about a European crowd that really responded to the splendour that was ZooTV.  Although we hadn’t yet broken even on the tour, we had definitely made the right decision to put on an extravagant show.  It was paying off in spades in ways that meant a lot more to the longevity of the band than the money did right now.   
   
I could have gone back to Dublin with Bono tonight, but the further away I was from that place at the moment, the better.  Working on the new album was a necessity though, and although I hated going back right now I found it to be inspiring to write new music when I felt like doing so, in a very twisted and odd way.  At the moment, I just wanted to stay here and enjoy the Spanish sun, spend an afternoon sightseeing with Ciara tomorrow and talk her poor, beautiful ear off yet again, maybe go to a club with Adam in the evening and let what little I had left of my hair down.  
   
I just wanted to get back to the hotel now, maybe have a whiskey (or several), watch some bad, Spanish, late night television or perhaps just stare out the window for a while, I don’t know.  I didn’t want to deal with wardrobe right now so I decided to just head back wearing my stage clothes.  They hated it when I did that but sometimes I simply just couldn't bear being controlled.  
   
I had still had a key to Bono’s suite sitting on my bedside table from the night before when we had gathered in his room for a pre-concert drinking session, or as we referred to it formally, a ‘band meeting’. I’d forgotten to give it back to him today after I’d realized I’d left it in my trousers last night.  Even though we now had most things at our beck and call, I still ended up being the one who trekked back and forth to the ice machine, just to maintain some semblance of reality.  
   
I dearly hoped she was still awake.

 


	7. Chapter 7

I woke in a daze. His cheek was rough against mine. 

“Bono?”

I felt a calloused finger against my lips.

“It’s me,” he said softly. Evenly.

“Oh …” I realized as he settled on the bed next to me. I was so exhausted that night I had fallen asleep in my clothes.

I rolled away from him, knowing I would not meet Bono’s blue eyes but instead crash into pools of peridot …

“Edge ...”

He looked incredible, his eyes lit up like he had just taken on the world, or at least tens of thousands of his biggest fans. This was how he looked in the few hours after a show, still full of life, creativity and ambition. Not at all like the miserable bastard he’d been for the past year as his world crumbled around him.

He hadn’t even changed, still wore the sweaty clothes he wore onstage … as usual he couldn’t come down. Bono was always out of his straight away, but Edge hung on for hours, just as he hung on to the music and the experience for a long time after returning home from tour. Bono let go after a couple of weeks but Edge would hold on for months.

Edge meant more to me sometimes than Bono did these days, he was always there for me when I needed someone to lean on, and I hoped that I could be there for him right now when he was going through this difficult time with Aislinn. I loved Edge as a friend first and foremost but I had always wondered how things might have been different if I were with him instead of Bono. Would we still be together if I had been with him all these years?

He blinked slowly, taking my hand in his. His eyes sparkled and he took a deep breath.

_What twists in that beautiful mind of yours, Edge?_

“It’s always been you … always. When I kissed you in New York, it wasn’t a mistake ... or a moment of weakness.”

His voice was low and whispering, trailing off when I lifted his hand to my lips. I kissed the back of his hand at first and brought it to my cheek. The way he looked at me at that moment, all at once I could sense his pain, his need, his want …

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, my breath hitching in my throat.

Always waiting.  
Always watching.  
Always wanting.

It was always me.

_Oh God, it was always me …_

“Edge … how long …”

He pulled my hand to his mouth and whispered against my fingers.

“Approximately? Forever, Ciara …”

He snaked his arm underneath me and pulled me to him, his whiskers rubbing roughly along the line of my jaw as he nuzzled against my cheek. He pulled back to look at me, his eyes asking if this was OK, the ball slammed firmly into my court. I drew my hand up to the back of his neck, my fingers playing with the bottom of his wool hat as I pondered him. I tugged playfully on his little ponytail and gave him a hesitant smile as a blush came over me.

Then, Edge’s lips were on mine. We had moved on after our transgression in New York but it never left the back of my mind, and sometimes my thoughts lingered far too long on that moment and I had to force myself to stop. Yet now, the feelings that I had tamped down since that night 6 years ago in the guitar shop were bubbling to the surface and I surrendered myself to him completely at that moment. While everything else he did was careful and measured, he kissed me urgently; his lips tugging on mine … so soft, and so perfect. I could spend hours kissing him. This I knew for sure. 

He rolled me over on my back and wound his fingers in mine, pushing my hands up over my head. How far will this go? How far …

“Edge …” I whispered against his kisses, “I shouldn’t … we shouldn’t …”

“I know …” he agreed, “but I need you …”

His tongue probed my mouth and I let out a small whimper. I would be foolish to let this continue, but as he pulled me up against him, the length of him pressed up against me, I wondered just how far I would let this go … how far would he let it go?

I lifted his silver necklace and rolled it between my fingers. His eyes said  _please_  and I left the word unspoken right then.

YES.

_Edge … Yes._

“Ciara?” he said softly as he put his hands on either side of my ribcage, circling gently with his elegant, talented fingers …

“Yes …” I hissed, as something inside me gave.

He leaned down into me and ever so gently brought his lips to my neck. I writhed beneath him as he nipped softly at my skin, his stubble scratching as he went and driving me mad. He brought his hips down to meet mine and for the first time I felt his hardness against me. He looked right into me as I lay back, anticipating what was to come. 

“Are you really sure,” he pleaded, “because I still want to be here in the morning… I want this to be real, Ciara.”

“I’m sure,” I said flatly, anxiously. I hoped I hadn’t hesitated too much. I was overwhelmed.

He drew back for a second and then rubbed against me again, all fire and want and hardness. I put my hands on his upper arms, his flesh warming beneath my touch. I slipped his shirt off his shoulders and as he shrugged it off completely I ran my hands under his black undershirt, easing it up his sides as I pulled him into a kiss. I loved kissing him. I loved ...

“Edge, you mean so much to me. I wish I could find the words to tell you that more often. I know we should stop, but I don’t want to stop.  _I don’t want to stop …_ ”

He sat back on his knees and regarded me, his eyes softening and the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. He traced my lips with his fingers and came down on my mouth with his again, kissing me hard. He ran his hands up my sides and made circles with his thumbs on the sides of my breasts. 

Edge made short work of removing his undershirt and I reached out and put my palms on his chest, running my hands down to his stomach, feeling the soft lines of his belly and dipping my finger into his belly button and lower, until I touched his belt buckle. I started to unbuckle it and all at once I could feel him relax under my touch. He exhaled deeply in a state of release and dived into my neck, sucking on it as he let out a deep sigh of submission.

_How could this be wrong when he was so special to me?  
_  
He moved his hands deliberately down my sides until he reached the bottom of my shirt, pulling it over my head as he drew back and smiled at me, his face full of happiness and want at the same time. I felt the metallic coolness of his bracelet on my back as he reached around and deftly undid my bra, kissing along the line of my shoulder as he slid a strap down my arm. He stared into my eyes as I sat naked before him, a slight angle to his lips, knowing that he was starting to drive me mad for him. 

Edge got up and stood next to the bed, the cover of  _Achtung Baby_  personified in those studded jeans and bare feet, but Anton never saw him through the lens quite like this, belt unbuckled and easing them off his hips, letting them fall to the hotel room floor.

He gathered me into his arms and laid me softly on the bed, his voice a rough whisper in my ear as he assured me  _it’ll be okay …_

His hands fell to my stomach and he started to stroke it softly; his touch was feather light. At once he scooted back and lowered his mouth to the soft flesh of my stomach, sucking softly and making me writhe beneath him as his tongue lapped softly at my skin, his hands lightly running along my sides and holding me in place. He undid my jeans and grabbed my waistband, all at once yanking down not only my jeans but my panties at the same time …

“Edge” I gasped at his sudden bravery. I don’t know what I expected from him, but it shouldn’t have come as a shock that he would put everything he had into this moment as well.

He leaned down and nuzzled his nose into my belly button, drawing me to him …

His first touch nearly made me jump back, such an excruciatingly incredible feeling as his finger ran through the soft curls until they hit the spot that mattered.

“Edge … oh God …” I whimpered, as his finger started to make slow, lazy circles that had me thrusting up to meet his touch.

“Mmmm,” he groaned while he rubbed faster as I wriggled beneath him, calling his name as he pleasured me.

_These fingers that played guitar for the masses every night now belong to me I thought flippantly as he moved his thumb along my most sensitive spot._

I shifted beneath him, his touch taking me higher and higher …  _take me higher …_

He stopped suddenly and moved up onto the bed next to me, lying on his side and resting his cheek on the pillow beside me.

It just wouldn’t be like him to not have his hat on, even now. Sometimes I think he forgot he was wearing it – just one of those countless endearing things about Edge.

_Why was I counting? And why was I thinking about this right now? My best friend … Bono’s best friend and I were naked in bed together and I was thinking about his hat? I was losing my mind. Was this about to be the biggest mistake I would ever make in my life or was it to be a turning point? I hoped dearly that the new day would bring the answer, but right now I made up my mind that I would just live tonight ... with Edge._

He ran a lazy finger along my stomach and grasped my hip, turning me on my side to face him and pulling me into a close embrace. I gasped silently at the contact, feeling the hot skin of Edge’s chest touching mine for the first time.

I reached down between us, took him into my hand and watched intently while he chewed on his lip and closed his eyes as I felt him, his breathing (and mine) becoming more laboured with each stroke. 

“Stop …” he said to me in breathless anticipation as he grit his teeth, “not yet …”

Or was he saying it to himself?

Edge laid his hand on my hip, running it slowly down the back of my thigh until he reached the soft spot behind my knee and kneaded it slowly. He tugged my knee toward him and pulled my leg up over his thigh. His hand slipped down between our bodies and he once again found the right spot as he tested my readiness for him. I hooked my leg around his and pulled him even closer to me, my lips sliding against his – a moment so tender and intimate … this was going to change everything.

_How could things ever be the same after this?_

I swallowed hard, surprising myself as I felt tears welling up in my eyes but fought them away, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

Of course, he had.

Edge stopped our kiss and caressed my cheek with his hand as he moved against me, his forehead resting on mine.

It was too late to stop any of this now.

_I didn’t want to stop._

Would I regret this tomorrow?

_I don’t regret it now._

How did I end up here? Now? With him?

_You are here because you love him … why can’t you just admit that you always have …_

“Look at me,” Edge said, his voice raspy as he held my hand tightly, “I don’t want you to have any regrets. I love … Ciara, just don’t regret this … please … I …”

I stilled his lips with another kiss right then. I felt like he had crawled right into my thoughts and it scared the hell out of me how well he knew me. If only I knew what he was thinking most of the time, but especially right now.

_Was he going to tell me he loved me? Sweet Jesus, he was … or was it just one of those things that spilled from your mouth while you were sharing an intimate moment like this?_

Edge pulled my leg further over his thigh and we cried out softly into each other’s mouths as he finally slid into me for the first time. I wanted so much to say something poignant right then but I couldn’t find the words, all I could manage was his name on my lips, drawing out the g much longer than usual.

“I need to see your face,” he whispered as he stroked into me, almost too gently. I reached down and grabbed his hand, squeezing it while I watched him watch me, his eyes swirling dark with need – surely mirroring what I must have looked like to him. 

“Edge, just let go … please …” I pleaded, as he moved against me too slowly.

It didn’t surprise me that he was an attentive lover but what did surprise me was watching him starting to lose control. Edge was always in control. I’d only seen him misplace it twice. Once when he punched Bono onstage in 1979 (he deserved it) and most recently when Aislinn told him she was leaving him. The third time was when he moved his hand to my backside and began to pull me onto him harder with each thrust.

“Need more of you,” he groaned, flipping me over on my back and pushing deeply into me, causing me to cry out. “Oh God … I’m not hurting you, am I? I’m sorry …”

“No Edge …” as he drew back, “no …”

I moved my hands to his hips and pulled him back toward me, rising to meet him halfway.

He let out a long breath and started grinding into me with a sweet abandon. The look on his face was familiar – head back, eyes closed, gritting his teeth; it was the same look reserved for the perfect solo, that special moment where he would forget there were tens of thousands in the room with him, and now a moment reserved for me. Just me.

We soon found our rhythm and I found myself breathlessly wailing out his name. He hooked his elbow behind my knee and leaned down to me, sucking gently on my shoulder as he began to pick up his pace. I turned my head, biting the pillow to stop myself from letting the whole hotel know our secret. Edge and I were screwing.

_That’s._

_All._

_It._

_Was._

_Wasn’t_

_It?_

_Wasn’t it?_

_Wasn’t it?_

_Wasn’t it?_

_Wasn’t it?_

_Can’t let it be more than that …_

_Can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t ..._

I could feel the familiar fluttering in my stomach, knowing that my release was close. He grabbed both of my hands and pushed them into the mattress, entwining his fingers in mine, letting me know he was there with me.

_Oh God, Eddddddge … I can’t feel my toes … … … push heat want sweet desire ... just screwing ... lust love magic soul burning … love ... love you ..._

The thought was the last conscious one I had for a while as the sensation began to wash over me. 

I lay in his arms, his body pressed tightly against my back and his arm draped possessively around me as he stroked my shoulder, his breathing slowing as he pulled me against him. I felt his breath in my ear and the, now familiar, rough sting of his whiskers on my neck.

I thought I heard him murmur “I love you,” and then I was dreaming.


	8. Chapter 8

I dreamt of when Edge and I were young.

I used to see him in the hallway at Mount Temple, always sitting by himself, a song in his head and guitar in his hands. His hair was wild. I remember giggling to myself and wondering if he’d ever combed it – but then again, none of those boys did back then.

He was in a band called “Feedback” or “The Hype” or something like that, along with a few of the boys in my form. They were always changing the name and I could never get it straight. I couldn’t keep track of what they’d called each other either, silly art boys as they were. I’d never seen them play but I heard they were decent, the singer was a bit of all right according to most of the girls but no one really mentioned the quiet boy who played the guitar.

Sometimes he would look up at me from underneath those bushy eyebrows when I walked past him; and sometimes, he paid me no mind at all. He was a slip of a boy, all legs and arms and long, slender fingers. When I stood for a moment and watched him play, he quite obviously had the fingers of a musician, easily drifting over the strings and caressing the neck of the guitar with such skill and grace. I would occasionally catch a flash of his green eyes from beneath that cool exterior, and if I was lucky, maybe even a bit of a smile. His features were striking – all angles and cheekbones to form that wonderful profile of his; whenever I stole a glance at him, I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like when he finally grew into them. 

His name was David Evans, but I knew that his goofy mates called him “The Edge”. I couldn’t really say I fancied him at the time, but I found him intriguing, to say the least. I’d wished he wasn’t so shy.

_Maybe one day, he’ll actually say hello._

I certainly wasn’t going to do it first.   


* * *

I dreamt about an afternoon in Phoenix Park, Bono and Edge were arguing over something trivial. And, as 17-year-old boys were wont to do, fists would often be ready to come out. Bono and I had just started hanging around with each other a few weeks before that, and, although Bono and I were friends, I often found myself agreeing with Edge whenever they quarreled. It usually resulted in me keeping silent – I thought that the best plan. The idea made me chuckle at the time – some things never change.

It was a crisp fall day and we’d all decided to skive off school for the afternoon and go to the park together.

Bono had Edge restrained facedown on the ground, he was coughing and spitting out sod and leaves and I put my boot on Bono’s back. 

“Come on, get  _off_ ,” I demanded of Bono and he grabbed my knee, dragging me down onto him and tickling me until all three of us were laughing and tumbling over each other. Once I’d found all the ticklish spots on Bono that sent him into fits of giggles, he curled up in the turf, his hair full of grass and he was laughing too hard to fight back. Edge put his arms around my waist and lifted me off Bono, placing me on the ground as he crawled on top of me. Edge had a slight frame but his forearms were strong; I was no match for him as he tickled my sides and sent me into hysterics as I writhed in amused torture beneath him.

“EDGE! Quit quit quit quit QUIT!!!!” I cried, tears in my eyes from giggling so hard. Edge stopped suddenly, panting above me – his eyes sparkling as he looked down at me, pinned to the grass. He reached out and brushed my hair away from my face. For a brief moment our eyes locked before he turned away, blushing, taking my hands and lifting me with him like the gentleman he was.

* * *

I dreamt of the night everything had changed.

The three of us had gone down to Dockers Pub that night and got splendidly intoxicated on cider and black & tans. 

Bono had been inching closer to me on the pub bench all night, and by this point our thighs were touching. His hand grazed lightly over the inside of my leg as he sang drunken Clash lyrics into my ear. Edge watched us intently from across the table, chewing on his lip and refusing to meet my eyes.

Eventually growing tired of being a spectator to Bono’s advances, Edge accepted a pint from a girl who had ‘seen him around school’ and ‘loved his band’ and ‘ooo, could he show her how to play the guitar’. He retreated into a dark corner with her and talked and laughed with her for the rest of the evening.

My heart sank when I saw him take her hand and pull her into a drunken kiss.

“Bono ... won’t you just take me home already?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

A few years later, Edge would marry her.

 


	9. Chapter 9

I nearly reached over to pick up the ringing telephone until I realized where I was.

I could only imagine what Bono would say to my sleepy voice greeting him from his hotel room. I let the phone ring; she wasn’t next to me in my arms like I’d hoped she would be when I woke up.

What had I done? She regrets this. I should have stopped; I could see it in her eyes. 

It’s not that I needed someone – just anyone – last night; I needed her. I wasn’t fibbing when I told her I’d loved her for as long as I could remember, even just after we’d finished school when she used to tag along with Bono to watch our fledgling band. If only I’d had the guts to say something to her back then, things may have been different. But Bono scooped her up before I could muster up the courage – and then there was Aislinn – and here I was now, alone, 15 years on. I wish I’d had the guts to keep my feelings to myself last night.

_I loved her. How could I do this to her?  
_  
I looked around the room; our clothes still lay in a pile on the floor beside the bed but she was nowhere in sight. I wasn’t surprised she had left me, I should be used to that.

I reached up to scratch my head and realized I had left my hat on. What the hell was wrong with me? Who leaves their hat on? I’m clearly head over heels, aren’t I?

_I didn’t deserve her – how dare I decide I did last night?  
_

* * *

 

Edge had made love to me last night.  _Love_. No matter how many times I said those words in my head, it still wasn’t true. This wasn’t happening to me. I stood in the bathroom and stared at the reflection of the dark mark on my shoulder, the lasting reality that did happen, it was happening. It had now gone much further than I wanted to admit.

Bono had his indiscretions, this I knew. Over the years I had grown to accept it, rightly or wrongly. I, on the other hand, had never strayed… well, just the once, but that was in 1981 so it didn’t count. I was young and Bono and I had been dating nary a year at that point.

But now, this was with  _Edge_. Not some fleeting moment with someone I’d never see again.

Bono’s band mate, best mate, soul mate. He was going to lose his girlfriend, best friend, and very likely his band… all because of this – one night of imprudence.

I had to go back out there. I hugged myself into Bono’s terry robe I had pulled from the back of the bathroom door and stared at myself in the mirror. My tear-stained cheeks were obvious but I had a glow about me that I hadn’t seen on my face for a long time.

I splashed my face with water and ran a comb through my hair, which was wild from the night before. I took one long last look in the mirror at my foolish, cheating face, and took a deep breath as I opened the bathroom door.

I tiptoed into the bedroom to find him still under the covers, the quilt pulled tightly under his chin, eyes closed and breath shallow against the pillow, fast asleep. 

I sat delicately on the bed, careful not to wake him.

Beautiful Edge. I wanted to crawl into bed next to him and hold him tightly and tell him everything was ok, tell him I loved him, tell him I was his. But that wasn’t going to happen, was it? 

He opened his eyes slowly as I watched him. He wasn’t sleeping at all.

He sat up on the bed and moved toward me, hugging me tightly to him from behind. I began to cry as he held me, his chin on my shoulder and his breath on my neck.

“Edge ... what are we going to do?” 

“I don’t know, Ciara ... I don’t know,” he repeated, and just held me for a long while, saying nothing and stroking my cheek as my tears subsided.

He rubbed my shoulders gently and shifted away from me. 

I heard him putting on his trousers behind me. I thought of him having to put on his stage clothes from the night before; I hoped like hell he wouldn’t run into Paul or Adam on the way back to his room, and most definitely not coming out of mine.

“Ciara, come with me,” he pleaded, standing before me and taking my hand, pulling me up from the bed and leading me into the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

“You still don’t believe it, do you?” I whispered in her ear as I moved behind her.

I brought my hand to her chin and lifted her head, coaxing her to look up at our reflection in the mirror. Her eyes met mine and I saw her swallow hard. She couldn’t take her eyes away from mine now, nor mine from hers. 

“I’m not  _him_. It’s me –  _you and me_  ... and ... I know I shouldn’t say it, Ciara. You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

She nodded her head slowly as I brought my lips to her ear. “I love you,” I choked out quietly. 

There. I had said it, after all these years. I knew I should have felt liberated, but strangely I didn’t. Was it really necessary to say what I had shown her last night?

She needed to hear it from me. She suddenly turned herself in my arms, bringing her hands to my face and pulling me into a kiss.

It was a proper, tender kiss; there was no question in my heart how she felt about me now. 

_Yet, I needed to hear it from her._

“Ciara ... where do I stand with you? Am I still just your friend?”

“No, Edge. That’s the problem.”

I took her for lunch and then I showed her the sights of Madrid from my bed.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> London - July, 1980

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we touch on that most delicate of subjects, religion. Set during the post-Boy October era, some Baby U2/Ciara soul searching... And I might just go straight to hell for quoting scripture during the most delicate of times too - however, tell me it's not all about that anyway?

I wanted to go with him so very badly to America next spring while they toured their first album, but there was no way I could leave mum for 3 months, and no way I had the money to do so with the job I had at the chip shop. I was nearly 20 but still at home – a rare only-child in Ireland – still living with my mum and hiding from my abusive father. We would have to win the lotto for me to afford it and my mother certainly wouldn’t have me going all the way to America and sharing a room with four boys in a rock band. Not to mention there was no way their manager would allow the distraction.

 _Oh, how I would miss him ..._

My mother tolerated Bono but I knew she would much rather see me dating a lad with a good solid job from a nice Catholic family, preferably one with a real name.

“There are so many nice boys at church,” she would constantly remind me, “so many nice lads who finished their A-levels and can speak Gaelic.”

 _So many good boys who weren’t throwing their lives away in a rock ba_ _nd_ , she may as well have said.

It had been a few months since that night in the pub when Edge met Aislinn and I asked Bono to take me home. He did just that ... he took me home and snuck me into the house and up to my room, tucking me in and giving me nothing more than a soft kiss on the cheek as I fell into a fitful slumber. I woke the next day feeling terribly ill; heartsick over seeing Edge with her and embarrassed about what I had suggested to Bono. He paid it no mind though, and we never spoke of it again after that.

Bono and Edge’s band were now officially called U2, and for the first time he’d felt they were going somewhere – they finally got their record contract in the spring and were in and out of the studio all summer recording their first album. It was an exciting time for everyone and I was so very proud that he was finally starting to achieve what they’d worked so hard for.

Bono was my boyfriend now, we’d finally kissed and made it official shortly after they’d signed their record deal and we celebrated into the wee hours at Gav’s flat with our closest mates and too many bottles of cheap champagne. Edge had come alone and left soon afterward, as I recalled.

They had just finished a four-night stretch in London; luckily I had a mate from Mount Temple who was living in Islington at the time and offered me up the keys to her flat for the weekend while she was away in Dublin, coincidentally. This way I could afford to go without having to pay for a hotel, and my mother was suitably satisfied that I’d spend my nights alone in bed rather than up late getting into trouble with boys. 

“I want to spend the night with you tonight,” Bono whispered in my ear after the last show.

 _Was he saying what I thought he was saying?_

Yes, I did believe he was.

We’d rushed back to my temporary home in a black cab, unable to keep our hands off each other and completely terrified at the same time.

We’d poured ourselves a glass of wine to calm our jitters but it didn’t help a bit. We sat on the bed with our hands in our laps for what seemed like an eternity, listening to each other breathe and silently contemplating the enormity of our intentions.

“Bono, just kiss me, let’s just start with that,” I said to him as I took him into my arms. I could feel him relax when I touched my lips to his and we tasted the wine on each other’s tongues. 

After a time, he laid me down on the bed and started unbuttoning my shirt with a slow but steady hand.

“I’ve not done this, not with anyone before.” 

“Nor have I,” I said softly. 

When I reached down to his jeans and tentatively touched his belt, my hand was trembling. I hesitantly moved my hand over the bulge in his trousers and splayed my fingers over him. I could feel him twitch beneath my fingers, straining against his jeans while I stroked him through the denim. The way he made the soft  _ohhh_  in my ear, I knew he liked how it felt. Neither of us knew the first thing about what we were doing but we would spend the night touching, testing and learning about what we liked and what felt good.

“I want to take these trousers off, may I take them off, Ciara? I really want to take them off ...”

“Yes,” I said quietly, smiling at him. 

He pulled back the sheets and coaxed me under them.

“Should we turn off the light?? I want you to be comfortable. I’d love to see you of course, you know I would, but if you’d feel more comfortable I’d rather we just turn the light off. I could open the curtain a little, the streetlamp would shine through a bit more and all ... should I open the curtain? Or maybe should I just leave the light on? Right, I’ll just turn it off then.”

He turned off the light, jumped out of his trousers into the bed next to me, naked but for his shirt which he threw across the room in short order.

Bono was charmingly exasperating when he started going on, but right now I just wanted him to be quiet. 

He was silent for a moment as he massaged my breast gently, his fingers lightly moving over my nipple with wonder. I tingled below and I knew I was blushing. It was probably good that he’d turned the light off after all.

“Do you like how that feels? If you don’t I can stop. If you don’t like how anything feels I need you to tell me. I don’t know any better, do I?” he laughed. He was so nervous. I was starting to relax now, oddly enough.

“Make sure you tell me. Oh, and although I really want to, I know I can’t inside you, so I went with Adam to the chemist somewhere in King’s Cross to get some condoms. I should have told you that before, you might have felt more at ease had you’d known. I know it’s a bit odd that I planned this all out and I hope that’s fine with you. But they’re far too difficult to find in Ireland, aren’t they? Plus you never know who’ll see you down the shop ...”

“Shut the feck up, you eejit ...”

“Right.”

He opened the package and after what seemed like forever he was finally satisfied it was on right. He wanted to be sure, of course. He crawled on top of me and I could feel his hardness pressing at me, wet and ready.

“I’m sorry Ciara, I just need to say one more thing. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m a bit scared, but I’m sure.”

“Tell me if I hurt you, okay?”

“I will. I promise”.

He pushed into me as gently as he could and he held my hand while he did it, we both knew it would hurt a bit and it did. My eyes went wide and I let out a whimper as he started to press further into me.

He hesitated and looked at me, I could see his soft blue eyes sparkling in the light from the streetlamp, asking for my acceptance.

“Bono, it hurts, but don’t stop,” I encouraged him as I gripped his hand tightly. I knew it would be over soon if it became too much.

I started to relax as he stroked into me and it started to hurt less and less as he continued. 

 _I belong to my lover, and his desire is for me._

“Oh Kee, I can’t, I can’t help it, I ... I’m gonna gonna, ohhhhhhh,” and I knew he had finished when he tensed up and grew silent, panting and sweating as he pulled out of me slowly, careful not to mess the sheets. 

Bono had taken my virginity. This wasn’t right in the eyes of God to give in to our youthful lust before marriage. It felt so right though – why was it not right to Him? I had too few answers to too many questions. We both did.

 _His mouth is sweetness itself; he is altogether lovely. This is my lover, this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem._

 

* * *

 _Somewhere in Europe - February, 1981_

  
“I really miss her,” Bono confessed as we stood staring out the window and watching the snowflakes fall from yet another cold, lonely hotel room. “I can’t live out of a hotel room all the time, sharing a room with you lot. I miss da too – but I really miss her.”

I missed her too. And Aislinn, of course. Of course.

Tonight we were in Berlin, I think. 

We would play a show and come straight back to our rooms afterward, falling into bed, exhausted. The next day we would be woken far too early and put on a bus on the way to the next town with the promise of yet another dirty, dark club to win over, or at least try.

There was no joy in this anymore. 

“Is this what we really want, Edge? To be away from our home and our families all the time?”

“I don’t know, B. I just don’t know anymore,” I responded with disdain. 

I needed some time to think. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this either. I didn’t even know if I could do it until the end of the tour, let alone for the rest of my life. The temptations were all around us; drink, drugs, the love of money and fame, and the girls – the wrong girls – were everywhere. I already had enough sinful thoughts in my head about her.

 _But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.  
_  
I needed to stop thinking about her that way – I had Aislinn now and she belonged to Bono. I should be happy, shouldn’t I? We would go back to Dublin, maybe quit all of this nonsense, and Aislinn and I would wed and have a family. Maybe.

 _But if they cannot control themselves, they should marry, for it is better to marry than to burn with passion._

“Edge?” Bono said quietly, touching my shoulder softly and bringing me out of my guilt drenched thoughts.

“Paul said we have to finish this tour, we have a commitment ...” I said blankly, staring out the window and thinking about the discussion we’d had with our manager when we dared suggest we didn’t go over to America to complete the final part of the tour.

“I don’t care about those commitments. I’m committed to my family, to Ciara, committed to God. Those are the commitments that I care about, Edge, don’t you see?”

He was right – I hated when he was, but he was.

 


	11. Chapter 11

I woke later that afternoon to a barrage of warm kisses from my new lover; I savoured every one until I was jarred from my reverie by the sound of the ringing telephone on his bedside table.

Edge put his finger gently to my lips and whispered with certainty, “it will be him.”

I nodded, a lump in my throat, and watched him lean over to answer the call. As Edge spoke and assured Bono that I was okay, he gave me a lopsided grin, suggesting I wasn’t answering my telephone as I was likely in the shower after the hot muggy day we had spent sightseeing. It was indeed hot, but it had nothing to do with the temperature outside. Edge and I both knew we had passed the point of no return; I’d spent the afternoon allowing him to learn every inch of my body and his, I.

 _Yes_ , Edge would make sure I called him right away.  _Yes_ , Edge would remind me to let him know what the hotel was like in Nantes.  _Yes_ , Edge wouldn’t forget to have a bottle of  _Dom Perignon_  waiting, chilled, for when he and Larry returned, and  _yes_ , the vocals were coming along splendidly, by the way.

Edge hung up the phone and pulled me closer to him, my head finding a comfortable niche between his shoulder and his neck as he stroked my hair softly. 

“We have to catch our flight soon,” he spoke softly and kissed my forehead, “and I have to make sure you call him. We’re both at his beck and call, aren’t we,” Edge sighed.

We were. Bono had both of us wrapped around his finger in very different ways. He was the most persuasive person I’d ever met – he exuded a confidence that made you want to say yes to everything he asked of you.

And not just say yes ...  _mean_  yes.

“Stay with me tonight in France, will you?” Edge invited.

“Yes, Edge ...”

Would the night be enough?

 

* * *

 

 _Nantes - May, 1993_

  
  
Nantes was a beautiful city with its renaissance architecture rising above the banks of the Loire. It had been a good 10 years since we’d been, but I distinctly remembered being quite charmed by the city during the brief time we’d spent here nearly a decade ago.

That evening, Adam, Ciara and I planned dinner and a night out at a local underground dance club after we’d checked in to our hotel. We’d flown to the cozy French port city early just to have a bit of time to ourselves and to get away from being recognized for a while. Madrid was beautiful but far too many people knew us there to have any form of privacy.

The three of us stood anonymously on a bridge overlooking the river, Adam with an ever-present cigarette dangling from his lips and Ciara with a glow about her I hadn’t seen for a while. 

It was moments like these that I lived for – to sense the ordinary, with no one taking my photograph or asking me to sign my name on something. I knew those people had given me a life of privilege, but sometimes I needed a night or two in my own world, just to feel real.

Tonight was a wonderful late-spring evening, with a cool breeze blowing across the water, far removed from the sticky humidity of Madrid. I glanced over at Ciara and winked at her, drawing a small smile from her lips. She wound her pinkie finger around mine on the railing, leaning forward just enough for it to be out of Adam’s view.

I wanted so terribly to kiss her right then. 

“Shall we?” Adam suggested, tossing the remainder of his cigarette into the river and leading the way. He’d been looking forward to this night for days. 

The club was underneath a bakery – in Europe, space was at a premium so it wasn’t that unusual to find dance clubs sharing real estate with the strangest of tenants.

The three of us were already somewhat tipsy after sharing a couple of bottles of wine at dinner – no one drank Guinness in France, after all.

The night progressed as we sat anonymously in the corner, sipping wine and shouting over the din. Adam had amassed a bevy of beautiful women around him; it was just another normal night out with Lord Clayton. I, however, only had eyes for the lovely Irish girl to my right. Besides, Adam was too distracted by a beautiful blonde tourist from America wearing a pink shirt and a knowing smile. He didn’t notice the stealthy way I held Ciara’s hand under the table, or how often I put my mouth to her ear with the excuse that she couldn’t hear me over the music otherwise.

‘ _Dance with me_ ’, I mouthed, taking the half-empty wine glass from her hand and setting it on the table next to mine.

She stood slowly and followed me; the hypnotic Balearic beat thumping in our heads as we wound our way through the crowded dance floor. I put my hand on the small of her back and led her to the corner of the floor, away from most of the crowd and out of Adam’s sight. I began to move against her and urged her toward me, resting my forehead on hers. I had to at least act as if I had brought her out here to dance.

“Kiss me,” I coaxed, teasing her as I spoke with my lips already against hers.

“But ... Adam ... what if ...” she protested.

“Kiss me,” I repeated, stroking my fingers through her hair and licking at her bottom lip.

She moved her hand to the back of my neck and held me there as she opened her mouth to mine, granting my tongue access to hers as I began to kiss her deeply. 

I felt a slow burn in the pit of my stomach, memories of the time earlier today in my room flooding back to me. I’d spent almost the whole afternoon making love to her. I wanted to tell her over and over how much I loved her and what a mistake I’d made by not stealing her away from Bono while I still could. It was the biggest regret I’d had in my life thus far, but I didn’t know if it was right to ever tell her that. This wasn’t just about me.

She made me let go of my guilt for a while as she moved herself against me, her hand slipping under my shirt and touching the bare skin of my back as we crushed each other’s lips with passionate kisses. Now, all I wanted to do was get back to the hotel so I could feel her skin on mine again and pretend that she belonged to me.

I knew she’d forgotten her worries of Adam catching us when she removed her lips from mine and pressed them softly to my neck. She started kissing her way upward until she’d found my earlobe, surrounding it with her mouth as she sucked softly on my earring.

 _My God, this was delicious._

“Ciaraaaa, you are driving me mad,” I moaned, touching her face softly and bringing my lips to her ear. “Keep doing that and I’ll be wishing I’d worn my long coat,” I breathed into her ear; I could feel the tightness in my groin starting to build. I didn’t want to embarrass myself – I had to get her out of here, and soon.

“I am going to end up taking you out to the alley and having my way with you right there ...”

“What’s stopping you?” she whispered into my ear in a low growl.

It sounded like a wonderful idea, but I had to control myself, after all.

 

* * *

 

No sooner had we closed the door to his room than Edge had me in his embrace, stepping backward toward the bed as I paced toward him, unbuckling his belt as I went. Now this was something entirely different. Damn the consequences. I was meant to be here – I realized that now. 

When he’d backed up far enough that his legs touched the bed, I lost all well mannered thought in my head and pushed him down onto the mattress.

“Ciara ... my goodness,” he smirked, raising his eyebrows and reaching up to take my hand, pulling me on top of him and kissing me hard.

I’d found his weakness earlier tonight; I moved my lips to his ear again and bit down ever so gently on his earring, fervently breathing out his name as I did.

His hand grabbed a fistful of sheet next to my head as he tossed his head to the side, rubbing his cheek on the pillow.

“You have no idea what that does to me, darling,” he breathed, his other hand on my back as he rolled his hips against mine.

Mmm. He had no idea what  _that_  did to me.

I continued my attention on his earlobe and was hypnotized – watching those long, beautiful fingers grasp the bedspread.

It was never the same after that kiss in New York. Until that moment, I’d never imagined anything would ever happen between us, but I’d been unable to get it out of my mind since. When our lips met that night, I felt it in his kiss – he was in love with me. 

I remembered feeling sick the day he married Aislinn. He seemed happy enough for the first while; Bono and I grew closer and I’d begun to dream of the day he’d ask me to be his bride as Edge had claimed his. Yet the question never came, and the distrust began when I’d traveled to America with him on the Joshua Tree tour. Bono was no longer just mine. Although I’d never caught him, I would often smell an unfamiliar perfume on his collar or in his hair as he kissed me, stumbling back late to the hotel room after another party I wasn’t invited to attend.

Edge and Aislinn started having trouble around the same time. Edge never got into the details but he confided in me regardless; I tried my best to lift him up, even though I was having my own doubts at the time. I’d always had strong feelings of loyalty to him – he was always there when Bono and I would fight but he was also there when we kissed and made up. And lately, he was there on the other end of the line when I would ring his hotel room in the middle of the night, wondering where Bono was at this hour and why he wasn’t there with me. Edge always told me he didn’t know and changed the subject, trying to make me laugh and trying to make me forget – if only for a fleeting moment.

But he knew. 

It was completely unfair of me to question him about it, looking back on it now. I could only imagine how hard it must have been for him to listen to me sobbing and questioning my relationship with Bono over and over again – knowing that I was being betrayed yet unable to say anything to his friend without revealing his feelings for me.

 _Edge ... I love you ... why couldn’t I just say the words?_

I pushed his hat off his head and kissed his forehead. He smiled at me, a hot blush rising in his cheeks.

“I’m sorry ... I forgot to take it off again. You make me forget a lot of things ... some of which I need to forget, but others are relatively important, you know – like wearing my hat at such inappropriate times,” he chided me, placing a light kiss on my chin.

I sat back and regarded him, lightly stroking the hair above his ears as he continued to blush. He’d always been self-conscious about losing his hair at such a young age; I knew it embarrassed him to take off his hat. I didn’t care ... he was beautiful to me. He had the most amazing eyes – most of the time they were a striking hazel but it seemed they would pick up the colour around him – ranging from a deep green to a steely blue at times. I ran my hands along his cheekbones and planted a soft kiss on the tip of his stoic nose. As he aged, he was becoming even more attractive; the soft lines at the corners of his eyes exuding an inner wisdom that I’d always found so captivating. Right now, he just took my breath away.

 _Tell him._

“What are you pondering?” he asked, placing his hand on my cheek and stroking it softly with his thumb.

“I’m pondering you. I’m pondering us, Edge ...”

“I see. You’re going to tell me it’s over, aren’t you,” he spoke softly, moving his hand from my face and casting his eyes downward.

Right now, they were grey.


	12. Chapter 12

 

I looked up and gazed at her for a while, trying to read her face. She turned her head away and bit her lip.

_Baby, don’t cry ..._

I hated to see her cry, and I hated myself for making her cry. I was making this impossible for her by expecting her to choose. 

She pulled away from me and swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting for a moment before rising and stepping over to the window. It was raining now – large drops hitting the window with a melodic patter.

I was paralyzed; I wasn’t sure how I was going to cope with the rejection ... so soon ... so soon, after  _her_  ...

Should I follow her? Stay here? Should I put my hat back on and walk through the rain to the club? Show up soaking wet and miserable and drink myself into oblivion? 

_He_  didn’t appreciate her like I did – he didn’t deserve her like I did.

_Or love her like I did ..._

It was now or never.

I rose slowly and steeled myself to hear the words I never wanted to hear. 

_No. We can’t._

I stepped over to her, approaching cautiously. She did not have tears in her eyes this time. Rather, she was taking deep breaths and looking defiantly out the window. She was ready for something, something big.

_I’m not ready for this._

Her shoulders were tense, her hands on the windowsill. Her long brown hair was tangled from my touch earlier tonight; I couldn’t get enough, running my hands through it, tasting her lips on mine.

I knew it was forbidden and I knew she wasn’t mine – but I loved her like I’ve never loved anyone else before, including her.

My thoughts drifted back to Bono. My friend. My band. My life. 

_Would he understand? Could he?_

“Ciara ... ”

She nodded twice and closed her eyes. I put my hands on her shoulders, gently, feeling her relax under my fingers. I moved her hair from the back of her neck and pressed my lips to her skin, tracing up slowly until I reached her ear, kissing it softly. She made a small sound and reached back to stroke my cheek. I placed a light kiss on her fingers, and the next words out of her mouth shocked me to my core.

“Edge, it would be easy if it were over – will it  _ever_  be over?”

Was it the wine? Or was she finally accepting  _us_? Was there really the possibility of  _her_  ... and I?

I put my hands on her waist and turned her to me, pulling her into a tender kiss. 

“Ciara ... I love you. I want to show you ... again. Will you let me?”

_Please say yes ... please ..._

Her answer was nothing like _no, we can’t_.

She buried her face into my chest and pushed my shirt to the side, kissing my collarbone in small light flutters. Her final kiss burned against my skin as she pressed herself up against me and sighed, “Edge, please make love to me.”

Before our first night together, I told her I wanted this to be real. 

_And now, for the first time, it felt real._

We’d been together for all this time ... as friends, and finally, as lovers.

I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her hair. I could just hold her like this for hours; there was nothing like the feeling of having her in my arms, finally.

_All the promises we break_   
_From the cradle to the grave_   
_When all I want is you_

* * *

She looked up at me, her fingers running over the stubble on my cheeks as she pulled me close and touched her nose to mine. The look in her eyes spoke volumes as she started to kiss me. 

“Edge ... ” she began, light kisses escalating into something deeper and more emotional with every brush of her lips against mine.

She stopped for a moment and pulled back, her misty brown eyes fixed on mine. I’d seen that look on her face before – in New York – right after I’d kissed her for the first time.

“Edge, I love you,” she sighed out. “I’ve always loved you ... I’ve been lying to myself all this time ...”

_Always?_

“Ciara ... ”

“The day you married her ... I ...” she continued, looking away from me as the tears began to well up in her eyes. 

_That long ago? Oh Ciara, if you only knew ... I have to tell you what I didn’t think you’d be ready to hear ..._

“Stop. Don’t cry – please don’t cry,” I whispered, taking her chin in my hands and tilting her face upward gently to meet my gaze again. “I only married her because I couldn’t have you ...”

She sucked in a deep breath and her eyes told me everything I needed to know.  _She was the one_.

It was true. She wasn’t the only one who had lied to themselves. I’d married her hoping I’d found a replacement for the one true love I had in this world, the one I thought I’d never have – the one who was looking at me right now and biting her lip to keep from crying.

“Edge, I’m so sorry ...”

“Don’t be sorry. Whatever you do, don’t be sorry, darling.”

“If I’d known, Edge ...”

“It doesn’t matter now. We can’t go back – all we can do is live in the present, love.”

I took her hand and kissed it softly, bringing her fingers to my lips and taking one into my mouth for a brief moment, sucking gently as she relaxed again in my arms and let out a soft whimper.

“Ciara, come to bed with me,” I whispered, my voice so deep with want for her that I was a bit unnerved hearing the sound of it. I couldn’t help it – these were lifelong feelings I had for her and there was no one who had ever made me feel this way.

_No one._

I wanted to pick her up and carry her there, but now was not the time to make her laugh now, was it? Instead, I took both her hands in mine and led her those few long feet to my bed. She smiled at me as I did and it just about melted my heart.

I loved her undeniably. We were perfect together, more so than I’d ever thought possible.

“Edge ... I love you,” she said once more. I would never tire of hearing her say it – not even the feeling of walking out on stage to a stadium full of people felt quite like this. That, I could fathom, but I could barely comprehend that she felt the same about me. 

I put my hands on her shoulders and guided her down to the pillow, kissing my way down her neck as I did. I began unbuttoning her shirt, laying kisses on each new inch of skin I uncovered as I worked my way down to the soft skin of her belly. I took off her shirt and lay against her chest for a little while, just listening to her heart beating. She stroked my cheek softly and whispered to me how much I mean to her. I moved up and lay my head on the pillow beside hers and began to kiss her again – softly at first, and then more needful all at once. She moved her hand to my thigh and moved it up slowly until she cupped me beneath my trousers. I felt myself harden under her touch.

_Good God – yes._

“Not yet, Edge. There is something I want to do for you first.”

My belt was still unbuckled from earlier, she undid my zipper slowly and eased my trousers off my hips before moving down between my legs and taking me into her hand.

She wasn’t going to ...  _oh my, yes she was_.

I gently put a hand on her head, unsure if I should guide her or not.

She wrapped her lips around me and looked up at me as she did it; this was the point at which I came undone. I moved both hands to her head and held it softly as I began to push up to meet her mouth.

She didn’t need to be shown.

_Her mouth ... there. If I could speak right now I would be ... would be ... oh God yes ... would be babbling ... oh ohhh ... like an idiot ... oh God ... I’m going to ... ohhh I can’t I can’t ... it’s ... oh please yes please yes please ... I’m about to ... just a bit more a bit ... more ... I can’t ... oh more ... oh yes more ... I’m ... can’t ... yes ... more ... can’t ... more ... please ... fuck ... more ... ohhhhh ..._

I suddenly pulled away from her mouth. How much of that did I just say out loud and how much of that was in my head? I had absolutely no idea whatsoever.

“Oh God ... I just about ... I just ...” I sputtered out. The room was spinning.

“Mmm. I never knew you could use such words, The Edge,” she joked as she looked up at me and smiled.

I now knew at least one word that slipped out.

She undressed as I lay back on the pillow feeling largely incoherent.

She crawled up and straddled me, taking me into her hand and sinking down onto me. I instinctively arched my back and thrust up into her deeply, my wits suddenly back about me.

_I filled her perfectly._

She took my hand in hers and as we moved and cried out together, I looked into her eyes and I’d never been so in love with her as I was right then. It was different this time, now knowing with certainty that she felt what I did. I could feel her tense up and watched her bite her lip as she did; her eyes grew hazy as I pulled her down onto me and spilled into her. She was right there with me, crying out my name. She collapsed into me and kissed me tenderly, moving to my side and resting her head in the crook of my arm as she stroked my hair.

“Edge, I love you so much,” she whispered in my ear. I looked over at her and saw the tears in her eyes.

I knew now that there was no turning back on what she had revealed to me. Something was going to have to give in the next couple of days but either way, a heart would be broken – and I prayed for it not to be mine.

 


	13. Chapter 13

I started out of bed, awoken by a loud knock at my door. Ciara slept soundly next to me, her chestnut hair splayed haphazardly on the pillow and her long eyelashes fanned out above her cheeks. She looked so peaceful and beautiful, I didn’t want to disturb her ...

The next set of knocks came louder and more insistent – Ciara’s eyes fluttered open and my name escaped her lips in a question.

“It’s okay, love ... stay here. I’ll go see to the door,” I whispered, stroking the soft skin of her cheek with my thumb as she touched my hand gently and nodded off back to sleep.

My head was pounding – I usually wasn’t much for wine and I was certainly paying for it this morning.

Retrieving my robe from the chair next to the bed, I dressed slowly, feeling uneasy about what would greet me on the other side of the door. Closing the French doors to the bedroom, I approached the door cautiously – glancing through the peephole to find an exasperated Adam Clayton, a scowl on his normally calm and collected visage.

“Edge, open the bloody door – I know you’re in there,” he hissed in a hurried whisper.

I turned the knob hesitantly, opening the door as Adam pushed his way in, a newspaper in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other.

“Is she here? Edge ... you have to tell me, what’s going on?” he said in a hushed voice.

I nodded my head slowly, defeated. Adam stared into me, a look of alarm on his face as he turned and strode into the sitting room while I followed him reluctantly.

“Edge, oh no ... you didn’t ... What in the living hell are you doing? Do you know what you’ve gotten us into? If it was my secret to keep, I could have done – but Paul came to me this morning with this – be glad I’m the one to tell you, trust me – he is absolutely  _incensed_. He’s not told Bono yet but he will need to – very soon ...”

Adam handed me a copy of The Sun – one of the few newspapers Bono didn’t want to see his name in – a quintessential UK tabloid newspaper notorious for celebrity scandals and gossip. My heart sunk, as I was all too aware of the content and acutely concerned about the possible subject matter.

“It’s not a secret anymore Edge,” Adam said almost calmly as he pointed to a small blurb in the gossip section, circled in blue ink.

_U2 Family A Bit Too Close?_

_The Edge and bassist Adam Clayton were spotted last night at nightclub Le Lieu Unique in Nantes, France, enjoying some downtime during their successful ZooTV tour. The two rockers were accompanied by singer Bono’s longtime gal-pal Ciara McFarlane. She was later seen getting rather intimate on the dance floor with guitarist The Edge, the pair leaving together with Bono nowhere to be found. Will this spell disaster for the Irish quartet when Bono learns of his band mate’s indiscretions? U2 plays Nantes on May 26th – we hope._

After all the times I’d seen Bono disappear discreetly from a party with a member of the opposite sex, it was completely unreal to me that I would be the one caught by the tabloid press in a small European club in the wee hours on a Monday morning. How could I have been so careless? Being with Ciara made me feel freer than I ever had, and my normal acumen to stay out of trouble went completely out the window with the touch of her lips and a few too many glasses of wine. 

I read the article over and over, Adam lighting his cigarette again and placing his feet lightly on the glass coffee table, waiting patiently to see what I had to say for myself.

I clutched the tabloid to my chest and put my head in my hands, unable to meet Adam’s scrutiny.

“Edge, you know this puts us in a difficult position ... we need to ...”

“Of course I know that! Do you think I just thought it was a good idea last night? I’ve considered this for fifteen years, Adam ... fifteen years!” I countered, tossing the paper to the floor and rising to stand near the window. It was a dreary morning – it was still raining – Ciara and I had listened to the thunder all night as we lay in each others’ arms.

“I know you have. Larry and I both,” Adam replied evenly.

“What do you mean you  _know_  I have?”

“We all see it – you’ve been in love with the girl ever since we were at school,” Adam chuckled. 

I turned away from the window and stared at him, feeling my jaw drop. 

“You’re joking. I didn’t let on that much, did I?”

“If you’re asking if I knew you fancied her, of course I did. But if you’re asking if I knew that you were sleeping with her – I had no idea about that whatsoever. How long has this been going on? Was this why you and Aislinn ...”

“Not exactly,” I wavered. “Just over 24 hours. The first night was in Madrid, after the show.”

Adam sat in silence for a few long minutes before he spoke again.

“Not exactly, Edge? You were never happy with Aislinn, were you,” he inquired, taking a long drag on his cigarette as he anticipated my answer.

“No.”

I wasn’t. I had made such a big mistake, breaking both her heart and my own in the process. It wasn’t worth eight years of pretending and lying to myself ... or her. I thought she would make me forget about Ciara and help me to move on, but as they years passed we just grew more and more distant – barely speaking a word to each other in the end. It may have been easier if Ciara wasn’t constantly about; Bono had insisted she join us on the road after missing her so badly during the first few tours. During the glory years of the Joshua Tree tour she was always there – standing on my side of the stage, her eyes alight as she watched us play – our long-suffering biggest fan.

“Do you think Bono knew I had feelings for her?” I managed to ask, my heart nearly beating out of its chest as I braced myself for his answer.

“It’s hard to say. We never really spoke of it,” Adam returned; I wasn’t quite sure that he was telling the truth.

Bono certainly hadn’t let on if he did know – I’d always thought I’d kept my feelings suitably under wraps. If he didn’t know already, he certainly would soon.

“Edge – are you sure? We can always lie and say you weren’t there ... I can say they mistook you for me ... I can ...”

“Stop it, Adam – just stop it! You know Bono has been playing around for years – how is that fair to her?”

“Are you sure you want to do this? What about the band?”

“I don’t give a fuck about the band! I love her! I can’t sit back and watch him do that to her any longer ... she deserves better than that, Adam!”

“Are you willing to give up the band for her, Edge? Is that what you want? You know we can’t go on without you – how will we ever find ...”

“I don’t know what I want, Adam!”

“Yes you do, Edge. There’s one thing you want very clearly. And you’ve wanted it all your life. Who are we to stand in your way?”

 

* * * * *

Edge opened the doors to the bedroom, a somber look on his face as he tossed his robe back into the chair and crawled into bed next to me, drawing me into his arms as he sighed deeply.

“What did it say?” I asked, my lips against his ear as I stroked his face.

“I heard it all, Edge. We were in the gossip column, weren’t we?”

“You don’t want to know ... it was ... seeing the words in print – I ...”

“I need to know – you need to tell me,” I urged him.

“You don’t have to read the words, Ciara – we got caught at the club on the dance floor. It was my fault – I should have kept my hands to myself ... you were just so lovely and I had too much wine, and I ...”

I stopped him from continuing with a light kiss, my hand trailing down his back in a gentle caress.

“Edge, we’re in this together. Bono and I – you know I’ve been in denial. I just hate this for you, love ... if only I’d have been stronger – I should have confronted him long ago.”

Edge held a finger to my lips, hushing the iterations of the misgivings I had about Bono.

“Ciara – I know it’s hard for you. He’s everything you’ve ever known ... it isn’t easy to just drop all that, even if it’s the right thing to do. Trust me, darling – I did it for all those years with Aislinn.”

He was right. He knew all about being in a loveless relationship, and he’d done it much longer than I had. Things had only started to come apart at the seams with Bono in the past few years. Everything had changed when we’d returned home from the Joshua Tree tour – the parties, the fame, the admiration at every turn weighed heavy on everyone’s mind – everything had changed in what seemed like an instant. There was no coming down from it for Bono. His need to be the centre of attention became much stronger when he discovered that people were hanging on every word he said. It had all went straight to his head and I started to fall by the wayside; the temptation of another woman’s touch too much for him to refuse. 

“I couldn’t handle it if you weren’t around. I need you, Ciara,” he trailed off, taking my hand in his and returning his mouth to mine in a flurry of adoring kisses.

“Edge, I love you,” I whispered between kisses, “I never thought it would hurt so much ...”

“Ciara, I’d give it all up for you ... all of it.”

He moved his hand to my jaw and shut his eyes tightly, rubbing a tear from his cheek as we both tried to kiss the truth away.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: "So Cruel"

I sat wordlessly on the settee, awaiting my fate as Adam poured me a neat whiskey and set it on the table in front of me.

“You might need this, mate.”

Adam had been as understanding as I could have hoped, but he knew as well as I did that this could spell the end of a lifelong bond between three friends – perhaps even between five.

Bono and Larry were due to arrive at half ten, back on a late flight from Dublin to attend what Paul had told them was an urgent band meeting. They weren’t expected until the following evening, but with our next show scheduled in just under 48 hours, Paul decided the sooner Bono knew, the better for all. The more time for everyone to ‘cut their losses’ was how he put it, I believe. Although it went unsaid, I considered that to be manager-speak for putting Ciara out of our lives and moving on. 

_There was no life without Ciara._

Ciara, who I couldn’t bear thinking about right now, knowing she had been stealthily ousted from Bono’s room and was sitting neglected in a room of her own ... waiting while we had a ‘band meeting’ that she wasn’t privy to. What had we become?

I threw back the alcoholic offering Adam had left me, the liquor coating my throat with its familiar, soothing warmth. I looked apprehensively at my watch, the minutes crawling like hours and the knot in my stomach growing tighter by the instant.

“Edge, no matter what happens – are you going to be okay with it?” Adam asked, expressing the worry that we both felt.

“I don’t know, Adam. That would depend what exactly it is that happens. There would be a few things that I don’t know I could ever be okay with ...”

What those were I left unsaid. I wasn’t even sure of them myself – I could never quite be ready for this. Yet I had to tell him before he read it in the gossip column – Paul had made that most clear. He would keep the tabloids away from Bono until I could reveal my ‘lost weekend’ with his girlfriend; man to man – friend to friend. And still with Bono’s arrival imminent, I didn’t know quite how I would put it into words.

As if on cue, a knock came at my door, the sound of Bono’s hardy laugh sneaking through the keyhole and into the room, startling me from my thoughts and the nausea creeping its way back into my gut. Adam rose to open the door and I realized I was still holding on to my empty glass, my knuckles white and my hand trembling.

Bono and Larry came tumbling into the room, the evidence of a few pints thrown back at Heathrow permeating the air around them as they snickered and mucked about.

“Where’s Ciara?” Bono slurred happily, the sound of her name falling off his lips striking me like a hot iron.

“She’s in her room, Bono. Come and have a seat, will you,” Adam invited, gesturing to the French provincial sofa across from my perch on the other side of the table.

“What’s this about, then?” Bono returned, the skepticism forming in his brow and his eyes narrowing as him and Larry sat down, tossing his feet up on the coffee table. “We were really kind of doing fuck all in Dublin – had a bit of writer’s block – but why are we back a night early? Paul was rather insistent ...”

“Come on, Edge – you haven’t said a word thus far ... this must be a big deal,” Larry laughed, brushing his hand through his freshly shorn hair as Adam poured him and Bono a whiskey each.

I leaned forward in my seat, my eyes on Bono as I set my glass on the table, wanting so badly for it to be full again as I imagined that I might just end the night drinking myself into oblivion and forgetting what I was here for. 

“Bono, there’s something ... something that happened while you were away.” My throat was instantly dry and I felt the words tumbling out of my mouth at a much greater speed than my brain could comprehend. “ And ... and you need to know that I didn’t take the decision lightly ... or treat it with illusions of insignificance. It’s something that I’ve been considering for years now – and ... it just didn’t happen without a lot of guilt on my part ...”

Bono downed his glass, his expression inquisitive yet serious as he awaited my answer in a more patient manner than to which I was accustomed.

“Bono – I slept with Ciara. But ... it’s worse than that. Bono ... I love her ...”

“You fucking did  _what_?” Larry said incredulously as he rose, turning to Bono and bracing himself from the rush of anger he was sure to see any moment now.

“I knew it. I bloody well knew it,” Bono retorted, almost calmly, shaking his head and dropping it into his hands before he tore them away, his face red and his fists clenching at his sides.

“I’ve seen you looking at her forever. For fucking  _ever_ , Edge ... I thought it would get better after you married Aislinn, but look where that got you ...”

“Bono, I’m sorry ... I ...”

“She never liked her – that’s all I heard about ... how she wasn’t right for you ...”

I had nowhere to look but my feet, my head in my hands and the revelations pouring out of Bono’s mouth licking at me like flames.

“She went on and on about how Aislinn didn’t  _deserve_  you! Can you believe that? Your wife that you never really loved, because you were too busy paying attention to your best mate’s girl ... she didn’t deserve  _you_? What kind of woman deserves you then, Edge? Mine? Does  _she_  deserve you?”

Before I could react, Bono was over the table, his hands grabbing at my shirt and pulling me up to his level. His chest was heaving and his eyes wild. Larry grabbed him and yanked him backward, his arms struggling to get a piece of me before he was restrained.

“Larry ... leave it. If he wants to punch me, let him ...”

“Yes, I want to punch you, Edge ...” Bono bellowed threateningly as he nearly broke free from Larry, Adam stepping over to assist. “I’ve never wanted to punch you so fucking bad in my life – you son of a bitch ...”

I put my head in my hands, unable to look Bono in the eye and feeling so very sick about it all. 

“Look at you, Edge. Was it worth it?”

“Yes. It was worth it,” I countered. It was true – I didn’t regret any of it – my feelings for Ciara would never change, no matter how much Bono wished I had kept them to myself.

“It was worth it to me, Bono, for all the nights that she rang me, crying on the other end of the line because you left her alone again to charm another woman ... when’s the last time she really mattered to you? When’s the last time you told her you missed her and couldn’t live without her? Was it as recently as I?”

Bono chose that moment to lunge forward, an arm breaking loose from Adam’s grip and a fist catching the side of my face, knocking me backward onto the settee. 

“Bono – that’s enough! You have every right to be angry ... but you need to calm the hell down. He’s your friend – you need to work this out,” Adam pleaded. 

“He’s no friend of mine,” Bono spat, pushing out of Larry’s grasp and slumping down onto the couch on the opposite side of the table.

I raised a hand to my face, the sting of Bono’s fist still alight on my cheek and the swelling rising to the surface.

“Where is she?” Bono demanded, “I need to see her.”

“No, no you bloody well don’t,” Larry said staunchly, “not in this state you don’t. There’s no way in hell you’re going to go to her like this ...”

“I need to see her, Lar! I don’t care where – go get her right fuckin’  _now_.”

“I’ll go,” Adam volunteered. “You two just stay the hell off each other until I get back. And give me some damn time – I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to convince her – she’s been crying all day.”

He stood and stormed toward the door, slamming it as he left but not without giving us both a look of daggers on the way out.

Bono and I stared at each other wordlessly, Larry’s gaze shifting between us as if he were watching a poker match. The tension in the room was unbearable – Bono was the first one to break the silence.

“How long has it been, Edge? Was it in my hotel room? In  _my bed_?”

“It ... it hasn’t been like that ... at ... at all,” I stuttered, trying to justify this to him somehow. “It was just now ... it was just now, Bono ...”

Bono ran his hand through his hair, the anger falling off his face for the first time and turning into something far more painful. Larry stepped over to the bottle of whiskey, pouring both of us another and setting them gently down in front of us. This was my punishment – faced by my three best friends who were all lined up waiting for some kind of explanation. How could I do this to Bono? I wasn’t sure how I could do it to myself; not to mention how Ciara must have been feeling. This would be so much easier for us if I didn’t love her – if I hadn’t spent most of my life coveting her when I knew she wasn’t mine.

“Why the fuck did you marry her, Edge?”

Bono’s question was something I had been asking myself for years. Outside of the first kiss Ciara and I shared in New York, I’d always been faithful to Aislinn – by definition. Yet for all the time I was with her, I had strayed from her with my heart – it had always belonged to another woman, and I hated myself for it.

I took a deep breath and asked him the question I’d wanted to ask  _him_  for years.

“Why _didn’t_ you marry Ciara?”

“Because ...” A beat. “Do you really want to know, Edge?”

I wasn’t quite sure I did, the way he was looking at me just then.

“I never asked her to marry me, because she doesn’t love me anymore. She loves  _you_ , Edge. The way she talked about you and Aislinn – the way she looked at you ... I’ve always known ...”

His words shocked me to my core. My marriage had failed because I couldn’t get over her, and hers had never happened because she couldn’t get over me. Larry sat in wide-eyed bewilderment at Bono’s explanation. My cheek stung where Bono had struck me, and my face was astonishingly hot all of a sudden, a lump rising in my throat.

_He’d always known._

“How could you not notice the way she looks at you,” he continued as my eyes began to water, my hands clutching the glass of whiskey Larry had poured for me as I refused to meet Bono’s scrutinizing eyes. “She always has this fond look in her eyes – every time ... like you can do no wrong. And when she watches you play? God, Edge ... it’s like I don’t even  _exist_  ...”

“Bono ... stop it ...” I begged of him, fighting a winning battle against the tears that threatened to breach the brave face I was trying so hard to portray. “You don’t have to tell me any of this ...”

“Yes, Edge ... I do. You need to know. You need to know why I went off without her in America so much – I needed to feel wanted by someone ... So don’t tell me about her crying to you when I didn’t come back at night ...”

“Bono, please,” I pleaded, still holding onto my whiskey glass like I would find the answers at the bottom.

“You were all she ever wanted, Edge – couldn’t you see? For such a genius you can sure be thick when it comes to her ...”

I was speechless. Blinded by my love for her all this time, I’d been unable to see what was right in front of me for years. 

“Did ... did she tell you?” I asked guiltily. I had to know.

“She didn’t need to tell me. There are just things that I know, Edge.”

“When did you know? I’m sorry ... I’m sorry to ask but I’m just trying to make sense of some of this ...”

“About five or six years ago. That autumn in America during the Joshua Tree tour ... whatever year that was now ...”

My heart sunk. I knew exactly which year it was. It was 1987. The year I kissed her. 

“We’ve never really been close since then, if you must know,” Bono continued; we still refused to look each other in the eye.

A light knock at the door drew Larry out of his chair, his watchful eye still studying us as he ensured there was no more physical confrontation between us.

He opened it to find Adam and a very distraught looking Ciara. It was obvious she had been crying – I wanted nothing more than to rush over to her and gather her into my arms, holding her to me as I kissed away the pain. I couldn’t stand to see her like this. I felt ill.

Bono stared at her without saying a word, his fingers digging into the plush cushions on either side of him as he struggled to keep it together at the sight of her. She stood for a long moment near the door, unable to look up at either of us, her chestnut hair falling randomly about her face and her tear-stained cheeks stung red. 

Adam urged her gently to join us and she walked slowly behind him, the burden of it all nearly too much for her. Her eyes met mine quickly before she looked away again. I wished I could comfort her through my unspoken words. 

_Ciara ... look at me, love ... it’s still me ... and I love you ..._

As if she were listening, she looked up at me just then, her eyes widening and her expression moving from sadness to shock to anger within a moment...

“Edge,” she gasped, moving her hand to her face and stepping quickly toward me.

“Edge ...” she repeated, dropping to her knees and touching her fingertips lightly to my cheek, tears beginning to fall again in an instant as she realized Bono had struck me.

“It’s all right,” I reassured her, “I deserved it ...”

“No, Edge ... don’t say that...” she returned, turning to meet Bono’s glare for the first time. “You did this ...” she gulped as she pointed weakly at him, “how could you Bono? How could you?”

“How could  _you_ , Ciara? How long have you been fucking him?”

I looked down and realized my hands were trembling. It was hard to hear him say it like that. The metallic click of Adam’s lighter was the only sound as Ciara turned to face him for the first time since walking into the room. 

“Bono ... it’s not like that ... ” 

“Don’t lie to me, Kee. You can’t tell me this was the first time ...”

“Bono – it was,” I reinforced.

“I’m not asking you, am I? I want to hear it from her. I want her to tell me all about it. Does he hold you afterward? Does he kiss you while he’s shagging you, Kee?”

Ciara turned away from him and looked back to me, the tears clouding her eyes. 

“Bono...” Adam interrupted, “I don’t want to know that ... do you want to know that? What good will it do?” 

Bono paused, taking a deep breath and realizing he didn’t really want to know. I wanted to touch Ciara right then, to hold her and tell her I had no regrets ... no matter how difficult this was right now.

“Why now, Kee? Why did you wait all these years? He’s still married ... what are you thinking?” Bono said, acting as though I wasn’t even in the room.

“You know I am stuck, Bono. We’ve been separated for two years now ...” I pointed out. Two years, two months and 13 days, to be exact about it.

“So it’s the perfect time to start shagging my girlfriend then?”

“Stop it, Bono ... just stop it. You don’t have to make this more difficult than it already is ...”

“Is there something you want to tell me? Or are you just going to keep lying to me? Tell me, Ciara. I deserve to know.”

Ciara took a deep breath, standing and facing Bono but remaining by my side.

“I love him.” 

The room went quiet again and my head was spinning as Larry and Adam looked on, shocked at her words. I was shocked as well – I didn’t think I’d ever hear her say that, let alone to Bono, who looked least surprised of all, oddly enough.

“When did you stop loving me, Kee? Why did you wait until you got caught to tell me?”

“What was I to do? It’s not the sort of thing one just blurts out over tea now, is it? It’s been a long time coming, Bono.”

Bono looked down at the carpet. Silence.

“I’m sorry, Bono. I’m so sorry,” I said, my heart sinking.

Of all the women in the world, I was so sorry it had to be her.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dublin - May, 1993

The choice was made for me to return to Dublin.

_The band had a tour to finish – this was not the time for personal distraction._

Paul tried to put it to me as gently as he could but he really didn’t succeed – he’d arranged for me to go back on a flight out tomorrow afternoon; and it was first class, he’d have me know. He’d also arranged for a hotel for me for a couple of weeks until I found a place to stay. 

How thoughtful.

Bono told me to come and pack my things in the morning – I wasn’t welcome to join them for breakfast and I’d better be out of his room before he was back. There was no sense fighting with him or begging him to take me back; the things I’d told him last night couldn’t be unsaid, the feelings I had for Edge couldn’t be masked any longer.

I didn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning and waiting for the bedside phone to ring. I didn’t expect to hear from Bono, but at least Edge would call, right? 

The call never came.

In the morning I went to Bono’s room as I was told and packed my bags while they ate breakfast without me – I wasn’t even afforded the chance to say goodbye. 

I didn’t cry on the way to the airport or on the flight home, but the moment I tossed my bag on the floor at the hotel and looked at the empty bed the tears came. I cried myself to sleep, hugging the pillow close to me and yearning for it to be Edge. I missed him so very badly.

I’d lost them both but in my heart I did what I had to do – I finally admitted that I loved the man I’d wanted all my life.

The phone rang and startled me from my fitful sleep as I looked around the room, the feeling of emptiness hitting me quickly as I reached for the receiver.

“Ciara – it’s Edge.”

“Hi,” I said, curtly.

“I’m so sorry, love ... this is all my fault ...”

“Why did you have to kiss me, Edge? I tried to be strong ... I tried to forget about the feelings I’ve always had for you and I was doing so well ... until that kiss. Whenever I made love to Bono after that all I could think of was you ... it was never the same again ...”

“Ciara ... I ...”

“Why did you have to show me what it felt like, Edge ... why did you have to show me how perfect we are together ... ”

I buried my head in the pillow, trying not to give in to the tears that were so desperately trying to escape, my voice wavering as I resisted the need to cry my heart out to him.

“Were you happy with him? Is that what you wanted?”

“No.”

“What do you want, love?”

“I want  _you_ , Edge.”

He was silent.

“Edge?”

Nothing.

“Edge ... please ...”

He let out a deep sigh and finally spoke, his voice familiar in my ear but for once it didn’t bring me any comfort.

“I don’t know, Ciara ... I just don’t know what to do ...”

“Edge,” I choked out, the tears starting to flow. “I have nothing. I have nowhere to go ... I love you ... God help me, but I love you ...”

“Ciara ... stop ... I can’t be there for you right now. I’m just ... I’m just not sure about anything at the moment ...”

I put down the phone, unable to hear any more misgivings or doubts from the other end of the line.

I didn’t even have a home right now but if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that I loved him; I just wanted him to tell me that it was worth it.

* * *

I pulled up my collar around my neck as I stood on the banks of the Liffey, the smell of rain in the air and the cool wind from the sea clipping at my coat. It had been nearly a month since I’d hung up on him and I hadn’t heard from him since – my heart was empty and my hope of seeing him again was waning every day. 

A few days afterward I’d moved back in with my mother; was less than ideal, but I had nowhere else to go. My mother didn’t really know what to say – I’d settled into a deep depression and it seemed there was nothing or no one that could pull me out of it. I’d gone from nights in 5 star hotels and parties with movie stars to collecting social assistance in the space of a weekend – it was enough to do anyone’s head in; it was a daily struggle to keep from just giving up.

I spent most of my time hiding away in my mother’s flat, not wanting to be seen and risking the inevitable meeting I was sure to have with the tabloid press – wanting my side of the story ... 

_Bono’s Ex Tells All_

I looked out over the water, memories of mucking about on the docks with the boys flashing before me as I closed my eyes and remembered.

“Ciara,” Edge asked, leaning against the wood railing as we watched the nightly ferry from Liverpool dock at Dublin Port. 

“Yes, Edge?” I answered, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight as he took a deep breath, a question on his lips that he was having a hard time asking.

“Do ... do you think you can love more than one person at a time?”

“I don’t know. Maybe ... I guess it all depends ...”

I looked down at the small waves breaking at the dock below our feet as the sea mixed with the river, the ferry sounding its horn as it chugged slowly into the quay.

“I mean ... I love Aislinn, but I’m not sure if I want to spend the rest of my life with her, y’know? I just ... sometimes I still have some ... some thoughts about other girls ... and I don’t know if it’s right. Can I have those thoughts and still love her? Have you ever thought about another boy when you’re out with Bono?”

“Edge ...”

“And if you did ... would it be right to tell them? Even if you thought they were already happy with someone else? What if they really ... weren’t ... and you never did anything about it?”

I looked at him curiously, the cool sea breeze blowing through his thinning hair as he shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that ...”

“It’s okay, Edge. And yes – I have. But ... he’s way off limits. We’re just friends – we’ll always just be friends ...”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dublin - June, 1993

I sat on her mother’s doorstep, not ready to knock. Whatever needed to be said didn’t belong over the telephone lines – I had to see her.

I’d flown back from Berlin by myself and although I had lots of time to think, I still didn’t know what to say. So I sat. And I waited. For what, I didn’t know – I just let the rain fall and soak through my shoes as I sat under the overhang on her stoop ... waiting. I put my head in my hands ... thinking over and over about how things had changed. It had been a tough few weeks around Bono and Larry – they both blamed me for all of this and Adam was the only one who seemed to have any empathy for me whatsoever.

That was why Bono’s call yesterday morning shocked me when he said, “Edge, go to her. And make your decision when you see her. I’m a long way from accepting it, but for now, I will tolerate whatever the two of you decide. I can’t stand to be around you when you’re such a miserable bastard. Either you sort things out with her or I can’t be in this band with you anymore. And you know that without you, Edge, this band can’t be.”

I put down the phone and sighed with the knowledge that I had to go to her. I thought back to the night she’d been sent away – she’d hung up the phone on me. I’d rung her wanting to comfort her – to tell her I loved her – to tell her everything would be just fine; even if I weren’t sure of it. It didn’t come out quite like that though; what was I to say when I knew she was alone in a fancy Dublin hotel room on her own, not knowing if she’d ever see me again? There really was nothing I could say, because I didn’t quite know myself. I loved her, but I wasn’t sure if I could be with her right then, if that made any sense at all. 

All I knew was that I had to go to her now; I had to know if she still wanted me – if all of this had been real. 

I looked up to see her coming down the walk, her hair a mess and her eyes puffy and red, her coat soaked through from the rain. 

“Edge,” she stopped, taken aback by the sight of me. I suppose she would have been since I’d just played in front of tens of thousands in Germany last night, and now I was sat on her ma’s front step in Malahide in the pouring rain, and it was nearly midnight.

“Oh Edge, I look a mess ... I never thought I’d see you again ... not tonight ... I ...”

“Ciara,” I rose to meet her, rushing up the cobbles to pull her into my arms. 

I put my fingers to her lips so she could say no more, her face wet as I kissed her until the rain soaked us both through. 

“Come inside ... come inside baby,” she said, leading me down the walk and pulling me into the doorway, kissing me again until our lips were sore.

I looked out of the corner of my eye to see her mother peering at us around the kitchen doorframe, an eyebrow raised questioningly as I cleared my throat and broke our kiss. I blushed, really not expecting her to see that; it  _was_  quite a kiss. 

“Oh.  _David_. Oh, _I see_  ...” her mother hummed. “I’ll put the kettle on, Ciara. I wasn’t expecting guests.”

Her mother never quite got used to calling us  _Bono and The Edge_  ...

“You didn’t tell her why, did you,” I whispered into Ciara’s ear as her mother retreated into the kitchen.

“She didn’t ask. She just knew that Bono and I were through – I mean she probably saw it in the tabloids, but we just ... we never really discussed it ...”

“Embarrassed of me, are you?” I asked her, my hand stroking her cheek gently before I removed her drenched coat from her shoulders.

“No, of course not, David,” she teased. “I just didn’t want to talk about what I wasn’t sure I had ...”

She looked at me for a long moment before reaching up to remove my wet hat from my head, blushing as she did, knowing how naked I felt without it.

“Oh yes, that’s right ... I forgot that Mrs. McFarlane doesn’t like men wearing hats in her home. And she makes no exceptions for rock stars ...”

I shrugged off my wet jacket and hung it next to hers, stepping into her childhood home, memories of a night just over 10 years ago flooding back as she motioned for me to sit next to her on the settee.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me, Ciara,” I told her uneasily. I knew she didn’t really think much of Aislinn, but it just seemed right – we’d been together nearly 5 years now and I felt it was best now or never.

She shifted in her seat and looked at me, stunned.

“Are you sure, Edge? You know it’s not easy to just ... get out of things if it doesn’t work out ... I mean you’ve got to be sure ... absolutely dead sure ...”

“I’m sure. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I just ... I think she’s the one, Ciara ... ”

She looked down at the floor before taking a long sip of her tea, her hands cradling the mug as she studied me carefully before speaking.

“Edge ... I just ... I don’t want to see your heart broken,” she muttered softly, barely loud enough for me to hear but loud enough for me to never forget her words.

Back to the present, her mother returned with a pot of tea and tray of biscuits, setting them on the table.

“I’ll be off and give you some privacy,” she said, smiling up at me slightly but still an uncomfortable silence between us all. “Just be sure to leave me a note if you’re leaving again, love,” she said to her daughter before making her way upstairs. 

“My mother always liked you, Edge,” Ciara told me as we warmed our insides with sips of hot tea. “I think she always wished deep down I’d chosen you instead of Bono.”

“You’re pulling my leg now,” I chuckled, stealing a biscuit from the tray as I set down my cup and took her hand in mine.

“Why would I be?” she said in all seriousness, “I mean we wouldn’t be in this mess had we just followed our hearts ... even my ma knew, Edge ...”

“You had Bono, Ciara ... what was I to do?”

“Tell me I was making a mistake ...”

“I was just remembering when you tried to warn me about the same with Aislinn – right here in this very room ... do you remember?”

“I do,” she answered. “And I remember that it did absolutely no good at the time, Edge ...”

It was obvious now that we should have paid more attention to all the things left unsaid.

She looked at me as I ran the back of my hand along her cheek, her skin soft under my touch as she pressed her face into my knuckles. 

“Ciara – I don’t want to be alone tonight ... will you come with me? I’m still at Adam’s ... but he’s not there ... and I’m in the guest house for now, and I just feel so alone and I can’t ... I can’t ... I’m so sorry love ... I’m so sorry I left you on your own ...” I rambled on, just wanting her to say yes. 

“Edge ... yes ... of course,” she answered, wrapping her hand in mine as she brought my fingers to her lips, kissing them softly as she looked at me tenderly.

My heart was empty without her – I didn’t realize how much I needed her until she was gone. I just hoped she would forgive me for taking so long to come back.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara remembers the night that changed everything.

He held my hand covertly in the black cab on the way to Adam’s, not saying a thing as the cabbie’s eyes kept darting toward the rear-vision mirror, trying his best to act like he didn't recognize Edge. 

I looked over at him, seeing the man I remembered taking another wordless cab ride with that many years ago in New York City.

Edge was older now, soft lines at the corners his eyes and wearing what had become an ever-present hat on his head. He really was becoming even more handsome as the years wore on, my thoughts traveling back to that night I’d spent with him in Nantes last month. It was the first time I’d truly studied him as my lover, allowing the attraction I’d always felt toward him to finally rise to the surface and ring true in my heart. It was the night I’d finally told him that I loved him, and the night that I felt we truly made love to  _each other_  for the first time as I allowed myself to admit my feelings at long last.

He appeared to be deep in thought as he absently wound his long fingers through mine, tapping them lightly on my thigh as he watched the rain streak down the windscreen. So many times I’d have given anything to know what he was thinking. Was he starting to feel happy again? Was he instead feeling regret? Or was he simply writing a song in his head right now that I’d hear on the radio for the rest of my life? 

I’d seen him – and U2 – grow up before me; the heady days of constant touring and discovery of new places now behind them. They seemed to be settling more into creating music for themselves and less accepting of doing what others suggested they should do; always looking for a way to charm and surprise their audience, breaking new ground and feeling inspired and innovative in the process. 

It seemed to some that he’d changed a lot these last few years with the troubles in his marriage and the new direction of the band. It appeared that way to people who didn’t really know him, but to me he was the same boy I'd known since 1977 – trying to find a decent melody – trying to change the world with his guitar.

I'd never forget the evening he’d come to me with the news. 

It was a night not unlike tonight, raining and dreary with a chill in the air when he knocked on our door in the wee hours of the morning. Bono only stirred slightly when the doorbell rang, but I popped out of my slumber with a feeling of urgency to answer. 

“Who in hell?” Bono whispered gruffly, putting the pillow over his head and urging me to ignore our late-night caller. I lay there in silence for a couple of minutes as Bono fell fast asleep again, but when I heard the desperate knocking that followed I knew this had to be an important visitor at the door.

I threw on my dressing gown and rushed to the door, opening it to him as he stood in the rain in a soaking wet headscarf, shivering in the chilly spring night.

“Edge ... why ...”

“I’m sorry ... I’m sorry. I have nowhere else to go ... I ...”

I pulled him into the doorway, taking off his coat as he stood there, numb – his eyes pleading and sorrowful.

“Come in ... come in and I’ll make us some tea,” I coaxed, bringing his coat into the sitting room and putting it near the fireplace which I would light shortly to warm his chilled bones.

“I’ll get Bono,” I suggested, rushing toward the staircase as I knew this wasn’t a regular social call from our friend at this time in the evening.

“No ... please don’t ... I just want to talk to you right now, love,” he pleaded; rushing over to me and pulling at my arm, stopping my ascent up the staircase.

I turned to him, pulling him into my arms and kissing his cheek lightly. “There’s no time for tea, is there,” I asked softly in his ear as he stood rigidly in my embrace like a tin soldier, his arms stiff at his sides.

“I can’t even think about tea right now ... I ...”

“Edge ... sit. Let me bring you something to eat,” I implored, hoping that I could do something to take away the unknown pain that crossed his brow as he looked at me sadly as I led him back toward the sitting room.

“Ciara, I don’t need anything ... just ... just ... listen. I just need you to listen.”

I stepped toward him, pulling him to the settee as shallow puffs left his lips, his skin sallow and his heart wanting. 

“She ... she’s gone. She told me ... it was ... it’s over ...” he choked out, his head dropping into his hands as he sucked in deep regretful breaths as I drew him to me, wishing the words away from his lips.

“Oh, Edge ...”

I didn’t want it to be true; I knew they’d been having their difficulties as of late but I didn’t know it had got to this point. It was only then that I realized that Edge had been putting on a brave face for me through most of it, but now he had to tell me the truth.

“Ciara, please don’t ...” he said, defeated. “Don’t tell me I was wrong ...”

_I couldn’t tell him I loved him – not now ..._

“Edge - that's not for me to judge ... Edge I’m here. I will always be here for you, love ...”

I just held him to me and let his tears fall on my shoulder, caressing his cheek and not knowing what else to say. I pulled the wet scarf from his head and stroked my fingers through his hair. He looked so vulnerable at that moment; his lip trembling and his eyes still a deep golden green, although they were clouded with tears. 

I leaned into him and let my mouth fall softly onto his. 

I kissed him chastely at first as one would kiss a friend; completely unlike the last time our lips met in Manhattan a few short years ago. He’d taken me by surprise that night – it wasn’t so much that he’d finally kissed me after all that time, but by what I’d felt for him when he did. And now, I dared to feel again what I did that night – his lips soft and tentative on mine in the beginning but soon allowing the kiss to deepen. And then he suddenly pulled away, leaving a void between us that made my heart sink.

_What had I done?_

His wife had just left him, and here I was, pulling him into a kiss as he shivered in my sitting room, his heart broken and his will shattered. He lifted his hands to my face, his thumbs resting on my cheeks as he pushed me away gently. 

“Don't... please don't...” he said breathily, “if you kiss me again I won't stop...” 

He looked me with an intense gaze as he took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. I covered his hands with mine as I looked at him wordlessly, our mouths open and our breathing shallow. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I just want to take your pain away ... and I don’t know how ...”

He took my hands in his and moved them to my sides, his arms slipping around me as he held me close to him, all the while his eyes still tightly closed; I knew he was trying to will away the tears. My heart thudded away in my chest as he clung to me, my hands curling into tight fists to keep from traveling under his shirt and touching his bare back. I wanted to kiss him again; I wanted to feel his skin against mine – I wanted to show him how it felt to be really, truly loved by a woman as he deserved. I knew it was so very wrong to be thinking of him like this, but the way he held me – I’d never felt as close to him as I did right then.

“Just ... let me hold you,” he uttered softly as he nuzzled into my neck, his cheek wet against my skin and his hand moving up to run through my hair.

_Edge, I love you._

How hard would it be to say it?

“Am I interrupting something?”

Bono’s voice cut through the darkness, his silhouette visible at the top of the stairs. How long had he been standing there watching us? Edge pulled away from our embrace, rising from the couch and fixing his wet scarf back on his head.

“I should go,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have come ...”

“Edge ... what’s happened?” Bono said succinctly, knowing something was very wrong. 

Edge couldn’t answer him, throwing on his wet coat and starting for the door. I didn’t want him to leave, to do anything stupid. 

“Aislinn’s left him,” I cut in, desperately – I had to say something before Bono got the wrong idea. 

“I see,” Bono replied in monotone.

Bono made his way down the stairs as I rushed to the door and blocked Edge from leaving. “Edge, stop. You’re not going anywhere, you need to be with us tonight.”

Bono’s jaw was set and he looked over at me, a sober look on his face as his glance darted toward Edge. 

“I’ll put the kettle on,” I offered, breaking the uncomfortable silence that was hanging in the air like a thick morning fog.

“Come on now, let’s get that coat off you,” Bono coaxed as he stepped over to his friend, taking the garment from Edge’s shoulders and leading him back into the room, refusing to look me in the eye for the rest of the night.

And with that, I knew he’d seen it all.

 


	18. Chapter 18

I’d nearly tripped over his luggage when he led me into Adam’s dark, lonely guesthouse as he fumbled for the light switch with one hand and grasped my hand with his other.

“I’m sorry, love, I just dropped my things and came over straight away,” he laughed, flipping on the switch and taking my overnight bag from my hand. “This is ... this isn’t really what I wanted right now for you. For ... us ...” he said softly, gesturing around the small room.

I looked around the cluttered area; one corner littered with guitar equipment – amps, pedal boards, packages of strings and various guitar cases, the other with crates of records and boxes of demo tapes. He gave me a sheepish smile, and I could sense that he suddenly felt embarrassed by his surroundings.

“Edge, it’s all right. This is ... you.”

“But it’s not you, Ciara. You and Bono, you have such a beautiful home ... and I have – this. I don’t even have a place to call my own.”

“Bono and I  _had_  a beautiful home, Edge.”

He looked down at the carpet, my words echoing off the walls and the room seeming even smaller than when they left my mouth.

Edge squeezed past me and busied himself by clearing off a chair to place my bag on. I stood and watched him, things suddenly in slow motion as he pulled off his jacket and tossed it over one of the amplifiers in the corner. He stood motionless as he surveyed the pile of guitar gear, refusing to turn around to look at me.

“I’m sorry Edge, I didn’t mean ...”

“I’ll never be  _him_ , Ciara.”

“I don’t ...”

“He gave you everything ... I can’t give you anything else ...”

“Edge ... that’s not ...”

“Why would I think for one moment you would want me? This is why I’m alone now ... I couldn’t separate my family from my music. It’s just more of the same from me, love, and you deserve better than this ...”

“Edge ... please ... don’t say that. You’ve spent your whole life with your music – but I know you’ve always had room in your heart for me. You know she was never the one ...”

Tears began to form as I stepped toward him, his shoulders squared as he dropped to his knees, his fingers fumbling with the latch on one of the guitar cases.

“I can’t listen to you say that, I can’t ever forgive myself for my mistake. I’m still married to her, Ciara ... I can’t even end it ... I can’t be with you even if I want to be – not the way I want to be ...”

He pulled the case open and when I saw the guitar my heart took a dive in my chest.

It was the guitar he’d bought in New York – I hadn’t seen it since the night he’d confessed his feelings to me with that fateful kiss. Sometimes, after that night when I dreamed of him, he would be playing it, and I would always wake up with tears in my eyes when I did – for so many years becoming a symbol of a love I couldn’t have.

“I couldn’t even ring you when you were forced to go home – and Bono – Bono was the one who told me I should ...”

I felt like I’d been blown backward against the wall, his revelation shocking me beyond comprehension.

“Bono had to convince you to ring me? Would you have never done so on your own?”

“I don’t know, Ciara ... I don’t know anything right now ...”

He snatched the guitar from the case and slammed it shut, slinging the strap angrily over his shoulder and strumming out a few furious chords. It was out of tune and it smelled of old wood and neglect. 

“Do you remember this?” he said almost under his breath, his eyes looking everywhere but at me, “that night we first ...”

“Yes,” I responded softly, stepping toward him but keeping a cautious distance, the fire in his eyes threatening.

“Do you know why I never played it? Because it reminds me ...” he seethed as his voice rose, his hands clutching at the tuning pegs as he began to pull the strings from the neck, “it reminds me of the second biggest mistake I made – when I ruined everything I had in my life ...”

“Edge ... stop ...”

“It reminds me of all the guilt ... and the sin ... and the sick fucking feeling it gave me every day to know that I couldn’t keep my thoughts to myself. I couldn’t be with my wife after that ... and I couldn’t feel that pure love for my girls, knowing what I’d allowed myself to feel in the arms of a woman who wasn’t their mother ...”

My heart ached at his words, watching in disbelief as he swung the guitar decidedly against the wall, the wood splintering and the twang from the remaining strings ringing in my ears.

“Edge! Stop it! Please!” I called to him but it was no use. He just kept smashing the unfortunate instrument against the wall until it was nothing more but a pile of wood and metal – looking more like some mad scientist’s project than the beautiful guitar it once was.

My tears began to fall as he continued to tear apart what was left of it further – if that were even possible, my begging him to stop falling on deaf ears. 

When he’d first opened the case my heart leapt into my throat. I’d been surprised to see the guitar again; it reminded me of him – of us – of a time where he made me stop the fast paced life I was living for just a moment and to finally understand that he was always there beside me, loving me.

I closed my eyes and tried to get the current picture of destruction out of my head, reminiscing about that night when he sang so beautifully and played so skillfully – just for me. I recalled him gazing at me over the guitar, his eyes soft but unsure, his heart on display as he sang, his lips later singing over mine.

He dropped again to his knees, seizing the remnants of wood that made up the destroyed body of the guitar and tossing them deliberately across the room. I approached cautiously as he held his head in his hands, his knuckles cut and raw from the abuse he’d forced upon them. I let him calm himself; there was nothing I could say to do it for him – he had to let it go on his own. 

I tried to tell myself that his outburst was about his failed marriage and not about me, but I couldn’t get his words out of my head about his children. I’d always been very close to his daughters, and my heart sunk when I realized what they’d likely heard about me now. Had they been asking about me? Did they miss me as much as I’d missed them – as much as I missed their father?

When his breathing finally returned to normal, I sunk down next to him, pulling him into my arms and holding him to me, his cheeks wet with silent tears and his hands trembling. 

“We are not a mistake, Edge ... this isn’t wrong ... you can’t tell me this is wrong ...” 

His eyes met mine for the first time since he’d went off, cloudy with tears yet still full of angst and ire. I held his gaze deeply as I waited for him to say something to me; anything. Would he apologize? Tell me to get out? Tell me that he ...

And then, his lips were pressing into mine, telling me he couldn’t live without me; his hands lifting me from the floor and his fingers clutching at my shirt as he tore at my clothing like a man possessed.

He started undoing the buttons on my blouse and then grew tired of the process, ripping at the last two as he backed me into the wall and told me he had to have me right then.

“Edge,” I managed to sigh between his insistent kisses, his scraped fingers pawing at my bra, his eyes full of pure want, or rather, need. 

I responded in kind, my hands unbuckling his belt before removing his shirt, wrinkled and disheveled from a day of travel. All was forgiven then as he brought me into another rough kiss, his fingers tracing my face and my name on his lips in a soft growl, promising me what the night would bring and how exactly he would get us there. 

“Oh God, Edge ...” I moaned as he touched me in places that missed him second only to me. “I love you ... love you so much ... please, just take me ...”

And he did.

 


	19. Chapter 19

I woke with a splitting headache, her form curled up next to me, turned away and huddled around a pillow as we both crowded against one another in the single bed. 

I couldn't live like this with her. Adam's guesthouse was designed for just that - a guest. Although tastefully decorated, it was not a place to actually call one's own for any length of time. I was home for barely a week and then back to Europe to round out the tour for another two and a half months and I don’t know how many shows - I’d lost count sometime around 1983.

It wouldn’t be the longest time I’d spent without her, but it would certainly be one of the loneliest. At least now I knew that I’d be coming home to her, if that were what she wanted. We’d never really spoken about our future at this point, so unsure of all the forces around us that were conspiring to make it quite difficult indeed. I’d been wondering non-stop whether Bono’s urging for me to return to Dublin was a veiled blessing ... or a secret hope that somehow Ciara wouldn’t wish for our relationship to continue.

I watched her as she slept soundly, seemingly comfortable even in the tight squeeze we found ourselves in. Is this what she wanted? The simple chance to wake next to me in one of those rare occasions when I wasn’t on tour? Since we’d begun it seemed that we were on the road more often than not - it was enough to test the most robust of relationships - and although I may not have asked her in the most polite of ways last night, I really had meant to pose the question.

I’d cleaned up the mess I’d made of the front room sometime around 4am, not wanting to see it again when it was actually time to face the day for good. I wasn’t proud to know that my anger had got the best of me, and I was embarrassed with the things I’d said to Ciara. Yet after our passionate encounter earlier that evening she’d still woken me to make love to me in the wee hours of the morning, encouraging words of atonement from my lips as she ran her hands over my body and nearly made me forget what I had done.

I brushed her hair from her cheek with the hopes of waking her gently - I was feeling too alone with my thoughts for her to stay asleep.

She turned to look at me over her shoulder, greeting me with a mumbled  _gmorningbaby_.

I smiled at her as she turned to face me, her body soft and warm against mine as we grappled playfully for space on the tiny bed; although I didn’t quite mind if she invaded mine.

“Good morning, love,” I returned, taking one of her hands and kissing it softly.

She squeezed my hand, her fingers entwined in mine, the soft indent from my wedding ring still present on my left hand. I paused for a moment as I recognized that she was absently rubbing that spot, her eyes meeting mine when she realized what she was doing.

I wasn’t the only one who was lying awake thinking about the future.

“What is it, love? Tell me…” She bit her upper lip nervously as she held my gaze.

“Is she ... is there a chance, Edge?”

“No. She’s still...” A breath. “The mother of my children. But I stopped loving her any other way long ago.”

Her eyes searched mine for the truth I knew to be, her breath in shallow puffs as her eyes moistened.

“Long ago,” I repeated, sweeping her hair from her forehead and tracing the pattern of her lips with my thumb.

She nodded her head faintly, the brown of her eyes disappearing behind her lids as she grazed her hand over my bare chest.

“I could ask the same of you and Bono,” I whispered softly, looking away from her for that moment.

“Edge - don’t. It’s over!” she said, her voice rising and her palm flattening against my skin. 

“I’m sorry, love. But I think about those things as well. Sometimes I can’t believe that you’re here with me.”

“I want to be here with you. Can’t you see that? I’ve given up everything for you... everything...”

“I know, love... I know...”

She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter when I moved my hand atop hers - we’d both given up everything, and it would be a struggle for both of us to try to get it all back.

“But Edge... you’re still married. It’s true that we can’t really be together - you said it yourself last night...”

“Love,” I whispered, brushing a tear from her eye as I moved against her, “look at me, please.”

Her eyes fluttered open and met mine as I pulled her into my arms.

“It’s over between Aislinn and I - we just can’t make it... official. I’m sorry love, I wish I could change things, but I can’t."

I hated to hear those words come out of my mouth, but those words were all I had to give her.

* * * *

  
I accompanied him and the estate agent that afternoon to look at a property after he’d begged me to come along.  _I know it will likely bore you_ , he said.  _I just need another opinion_ , he advised.  _Don’t mind that the area is a bit familiar_ , he apologized in advance.

Edge shrugged, a sheepish grin across his lips when I recognized the winding hillsides overlooking Killiney Bay. We stopped at a house which recently came on the market; not a mile from my former home with Bono. Like many of the homes in the area, it was hidden behind a stone wall and high gates - and as Bono had not befriended the owners of this particular property, I’d never caught a glimpse inside the grounds. It was entirely possible here to live next to someone your whole life and never once see him or her outside of the tinted windows of their chauffeur-driven ride.

“I need the seclusion, love - you know how it is,” he said apologetically. “The fans... you know I love them but I need my space.”

“I understand. I know exactly how it is,” I answered him, my hand in his as we drove up the long cobbled driveway to the front door.

I felt very alone right then, an outsider looking in on the lives of kings. It seemed so foreign now returning once again to the area after I’d just been staying with my mother at my modest childhood home. I wasn’t sure that I could ever get used to that life again after all the years I’d spent living in extravagance, but I was coping the best I could. I wouldn’t forget the time Bono had offered to foot the bill for a bit of an upgrade for mum - she’d never been so angry at him in all of her days, and it was never mentioned again. 

“Thank you, love.” He squeezed my hand.

There were few areas of Dublin that afforded the privacy of Dalkey and Killiney, and I would admit that I’d been spoiled by the view over the Bay at twilight. I often sat alone on the terrace and just stared out over the azure waters, which could turn grey at a moment’s notice when a storm began to brew in the Irish Sea.

“What do you think, love?” he asked me as we stepped into the foyer, the floor to ceiling windows flooding with sunlight and the ornately carved staircase beckoning us silently to the upper floors.

“It’s beautiful, Edge - stunning,” I said, my jaw dropping just a bit.

The estate agent informed us of all the details; and I learned very quickly that this was a fair bit larger than Bono’s home. 5 bedrooms, 1 acre of gardens, a pool, and  _one of the nicest views of the Bay you could buy for under a million punts_ , he’d have us both know. Edge turned to me and smiled, and I knew right then he’d made his choice.

“There’s lots of room for the girls - they can have their own rooms - and another spare room for... maybe someday...” he trailed off. Aislinn had given him three beautiful daughters but I knew that he’d always wished he’d had a son as well.

“Could you excuse us for a moment?” Edge asked the estate agent as he nodded back quickly, fumbling in his briefcase for his paperwork like a salivating dog. He could sense Edge’s readiness to make a decision, as could I.

He led me out to the garden, a magnificent stone terrace opening up to a finely manicured emerald lawn, framed by a glorious view of the water – an even more incredible vantage point than I’d had at Bono’s, which I hadn’t dreamed possible until now. “I want this to be our home, Ciara.”

“Our home?” I stuttered, nearly speechless as he hugged me close to him, looking wistfully out to Dalkey Island, which stood just across the water from us, its crumbling Martello tower bathing in the afternoon sunlight.

“Well, yes, love – you didn’t think I’d expect you to live with your mum now, did you?” he laughed. “And this place is far too lush for me to live on my own – I might not find my way out if the girls aren’t at home to help me…”

“Edge,” I gasped. “You can’t… we… I…”

“Hush now. Of course I can. Do you really like it? I’m honestly not going to buy it if you don’t, love…”

“Of course I do! It’s incredible!” I burst out as he gathered me into his arms with a grin.

“But what about Bono? Will he be okay with this? Edge?” I questioned him in a whispering tone, reaching up and tugging lightly on his ponytail to ensure I had his full attention.

“Well… erm… I haven’t told him about  _this_  yet.”

“You’ve obviously been planning it for a while.”

“I wasn’t planning on… well… us.”

Edge looked at me, his eyes pleading and his hand softly caressing my back, trying to assure me everything would be just fine.

 _Just fine._

I turned away, a deep breath hitching in my chest as I considered what lay ahead when Bono heard the news that Edge wanted me to move in with him. And just down the road, no less. I could think of nothing I wanted more – but was I ready? Were  _we_  ready?

“Ciara – look at me – please. I love you. Bono is going to have to be okay with things, isn’t he?”

“I suppose he will have to be. Edge… are you sure?”

“I’ve not been so sure about most anything, love, as I am about this. When I come home from this tour – I want to come home to you. It’s not a new feeling for me – being in love with you. What’s new to me is… you returning the sentiment.”

I smiled at him, tears welling up in my eyes at the thought of a new beginning for both of us. 

“Kiss me… Edge, I kn…” I said in a hush, his lips quickly meeting mine before I had the chance to finish. It felt suddenly like it should have been our very first kiss; our lips touching tentatively to begin and then falling hastily into something deeper and more passionate all at once. His hands stroked through my hair and my arms moved about his waist, pulling his body closer to mine as our tongues met in a flurry – my stomach flipping and my head spinning with a feeling of pure bliss.

This was right. This was love. This was  _everything_.

 


	20. Chapter 20

I thought back to our time on tour in Europe during the Joshua Tree tour. It could have been in Rotterdam, could have been in Rome - we may have been in Switzerland, or possibly Germany. I may not have remembered the city or even the country after 3 long months on the road - all I knew was I had the right continent, and that this didn't happen in America. I did, however, remember the hotel room, that it was a hot summer night and I'd left my window open onto the street. I loved to fall asleep to the sound of the traffic below. Just as I fell asleep, the phone rang anxiously in the darkness, waking me with a start.

“Where is he?” Ciara asked eagerly, her voice cracking as she questioned me.

“I don’t know, love, he’s gone to an after party or something...”

“Why aren’t you with him?”

“It’s been a long day… I…”

“He’s with someone else. Isn’t he? Just tell me, Edge. Tell me… don’t lie to me. Please don’t lie to me…”

I didn’t know that telling her Bono wasn’t as faithful as she’d hoped him to be was the right thing to do. It was true that I wasn’t quite sure whom he was with tonight, but there were other nights I didn’t want to tell her about at all. She had a right to know, but if I started to reveal that to her, there was no guarantee I wouldn't tell her that I...

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know, Ciara.” I blurted out, cutting myself off before I had a chance to entertain the thought.

Her sobs on the other end of the line told me everything I needed to know.  _She knew_.

“Don’t cry love… please don’t cry…”

She didn't answer me after that; I could hear her gulping and fighting back her tears as I sat helpless, unable to say anything to her to comfort her the way I wished I could.

“Ciara… please, love… Ciara…” I whispered her name over and over until she had choked back enough tears to hear me. “I don’t want you to be alone right now. Please come to my room and we’ll talk…”

“I don’t know, Edge. I just want to be by myself…”

“I understand. But I just don’t think you should be on your own right now. Can I come see you, love?”

She began to cry again, a heart wrenching pain escaping the very depths of her. She wouldn’t admit it, but my intuition told me that she needed someone to talk to right now.

“Ciara… I’ll be right there, love…” I said hurriedly, and before I could tell myself that I was unwanted, I’d put down the phone and threw on a shirt and trousers and my hat crookedly on my head, my hands shaking and my will determined. I wouldn’t have her cry herself to sleep.

I sprinted the short way down the hall to her and Bono's room, knocking gently as to not wake anyone else nearby.

She met me at the door, her eyes red and puffy and her expression one of shame and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Edge, I shouldn't have bothered you... this is my problem, and I don’t need to drag you into it…"

"Nonsense, love. May I come in?"

She nodded her head, pulling back the door to usher me into the suite. She continued to mutter words of apology and poured me a whiskey without me asking, along with one for herself.

“I need a drink… but I can’t drink alone right now. So… here…” she said, thrusting the glass into my hand as she flopped down onto the bed.

I took a chair near the television and fumbled for the remote control, clicking off the nightly newscast. I couldn’t understand what they were saying anyway, but no matter. Even if I did, my attention was focused purely on the beautiful girl I’d grown up with – her heart currently being broken in two by none other than my best mate.

“Edge – thank you. I know I’m just miserable to be with right now, but I can’t tell you how much it means that you’re here.” 

She gazed emptily at the wall, her head turned away and unwilling to look in my direction. I took a sip of my drink and sat back; ready to listen to whatever it was that she needed to say. Bono had been largely faithful to her – he’d sneak a kiss here… a touch there… but it was only during the last few months that he outright disappeared with the odd woman after a few of our shows. He was very covert when he did it, but there was no way he could hide it from me. It was blatantly obvious to me when the centre of attention suddenly left the room, even if everyone else was immersed in drink and conversation – including Ciara.

She may have noticed, but she never mentioned it – however I started to believe that she was in denial, just as I was. Bono wasn’t like this! He couldn’t do this… to her…  _could he_?

“Part of me knows that maybe I’m expecting too much with this lifestyle… I mean, he’s a rock star, isn’t he? But then I look at you and Aislinn, and I see how much you love her, and… how do you stay faithful? What did I do wrong, Edge? I just don’t understand where I’ve gone wrong…” 

“Sometimes one shouldn’t always look in the mirror, love. Sometimes, no matter what you do – it’s never enough.”

I sighed and took another sip of my drink, my words hanging heavily in the air. 

“But Edge… you’ve never… have you?”

I glanced over at her as she prodded, her head snapping up to look at me from across the room.

“Have you?” she asked again, blankly.

“No… no I haven’t. I’ve never been unfaithful to Aislinn,” I spelled out plainly.

It was true. I’d never entertained the thought of being with another woman.

 _Except one._

She looked over at me; her hands wrapped around her glass and her doe eyes blinking softly, the corners of her mouth turning up into a shy, yet beautiful smile. 

“That wasn’t my business to ask you that. I’m sorry.”

“You can ask me anything, love. I don’t mind. You know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you?”

She nodded, and a silence overtook the both of us for a few minutes as we sipped slowly on our drinks.

The sound of the telephone disturbed our peace, Ciara looking over at me in a panic.

“Do you think it’s him?”

“It might be, yes… maybe he’s not where you think he is… maybe…”

She looked at me with unspoken words hanging between us, the phone continuing to ring as she sat there motionless, not making a move to answer it. The caller was very persistent, whoever he was, the phone ringing another dozen times until Ciara finally reached over and snatched the receiver from the bedside table.

“Yes?” she answered curtly, her eyes on mine, and her other hand gripping her glass tightly.

She nodded her head wordlessly at me – it was definitely him.

 _‘I should go’_  I mouthed, and stood up from the chair, starting toward the door. There were some conversations I didn’t need to hear.

I trudged down the hall back to my room. Fumbling for my key, I couldn’t get into the suite fast enough… away from the reality that Bono was just stringing her along, keeping her at bay while he was goodness knows where – without her.

I tossed my room key on the table and stepped over to the mirror on the wall. I stared hard at my reflection and tossed my hat across the room, pulling my thinning hair out of its ponytail and letting out a deep sigh.

 _Who would care for me if I weren’t a rock star?_

I wasn’t Bono. And I never would be. Ciara would never be mine. She was Bono’s – and he was throwing it all away right in front of me, and there wasn’t a thing I could do. I wasn’t about to tell her that everything would be okay, that this would pass.

I knew more than anyone that falling out of love was much easier than falling into it.

But I’d never fallen out of love with  _her_. It was my own wife who my heart no longer yearned for. 

A soft knock on the door distracted me from my thoughts. I opened it to find Ciara, her lip quivering as she stepped into the room.

It was all I could do to pull her into my arms and hug her to me, stroking her hair as she fell into my shoulder.

“Edge… he’s not coming back tonight, is he?”

“No, love. He’s not. But I’m here, love… I’m here…”

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

“Well… if you’d like, love. I don’t want you to be alone, so I’ll get a spare blanket and just kip on the sofa. I haven’t even slept in the bed yet today, so it’s still made, but I can call housekeeping if you’d…”

“No, Edge… I want to sleep with you…”

My mouth dropped a bit. Surely, she didn’t mean… 

Our eyes met and a blush spread quickly across her cheeks.

“Not like  _that_ … just as a friend, Edge…” she laughed, raising an eyebrow at me. 

“Oh… well yes, of course not…” I answered, my face surely reddening along with the way my stomach flipped when she said it.

Of course she’d never want me like  _that_.

“I can go back if you’re not comfortable,” she whispered, her hand running softly along my back as she clung to me. I closed my eyes and focused on the feel of her hand over my shirt, imagining that she was touching me like a lover – not just a friend. I had to stop thinking of her… of this… in that way. I was like a brother to her – nothing more. She didn’t feel that way about me at all; I had to stop wishing that she did.

“No, it’s all right,” I responded softly. “You’re welcome to stay.”

Considering it only for a moment, she pulled away from me and made her way over to the bed, comfortably kicking off her shoes and curling up on the pillow.

“Come on, Edge. You must be exhausted,” she beckoned, her hand smoothing out the bedspread as she looked over at me.

I approached her judiciously, sitting on the edge of the bed and removing my shoes one by one, placing them neatly on the floor. I peered at her over my shoulder, watching as her hair splayed over the pillow and she sighed deeply in relaxation. I reached over to the bedside table and turned off the only light in the room, shrouding us in darkness save for the streetlight outside the window which cast a warm glow over the both of us.

“You can go under the covers if you’d like, Ciara. I, um… I like to keep the room a bit on the cool side when I sleep…”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I hope I’m not…”

“It’s all right, love. You’re fine.”

She stood quickly and pulled back the spread, turning away from me and covertly removing her trousers as I sucked in a silent breath and looked away hastily. I tried not to think about it when she climbed under the covers in just her knickers and shirt – how did she expect me to sleep with her next to me in a state of undress like that? 

She wasn’t entertaining the same thoughts as I was – that’s how.

I didn’t want her to sense my embarrassment so I hurriedly kicked off my jeans and joined her beneath the warm blanket, staying safely on my side of the king sized bed. I wasn’t used to sleeping in a shirt, but tonight it would have to do. It was enough that I was down to my shorts but she’d probably think I was quite odd if I slept in my jeans… 

“Will you hold me, Edge?” she said in a near whisper. Even in the dim light I could see her begging eyes. 

I cleared my throat. “Yes, if that’s what you’d like me to do…”

“It is… I’m sorry for being so needy right now,” she said softly.

“Don’t apologize, love. It’s okay. I’m here ,” I assured her as I moved closer to her and reached out tentatively, brushing her hair from her face and touching her shoulder lightly as though she were made of porcelain.

“Ciara, turn away from me,” I said quietly, my voice coming out in a low, shaky whisper. She turned over and I moved behind her, coaxing her shoulder back toward me and settling my body a few inches behind hers. She reached back and grabbed my fingers, pulling my arm over hers as she drew me closer to her and let out a deep sigh . She moved her head over a bit so I could share her pillow; as I lay my head on the warm spot that she’d left vacant for me, I could smell the shampoo in her chestnut hair, that light floral scent which always reminded me of her.

“Edge, thank you,” she repeated as she turned to look at me over her shoulder and raised a hand to my hair, running her fingers through it and resting on the base of my neck, her touch warm on my flesh and her breathing shallow and slow. 

I could kiss her right now – oh, how I wanted to. But this wasn't the time. And it would have been a very dangerous place …

Our eyes met briefly before she turned away again, her cheek nuzzling back into the pillow.

“Ciara… please love… just try to get some sleep,” I murmured as I managed to get myself together enough to pull her a bit closer and stroke her hair, feeling her warmth against me. “I wish I could make things different for you and Bono… you don’t deserve this…”

She didn’t answer, she just took my hand in hers and wound her fingers through my own, hesitant yet sure at the same time. She was just looking for some sort of comfort; a reassuring refuge in someone who would be there to listen – something that only a true friend could provide. That was my role – her friend. Anything more and I’d be taking her for granted. Yet I couldn’t help but notice that my arms fit perfectly around her frame as she relaxed and allowed herself sanctuary in my embrace. 

I stayed with her like that until she fell into a deep slumber, not wanting to allow myself to fall back asleep, fearing I'd miss one single moment knowing what it felt like to hold her. 

My face was buried in her hair, and her neck was mere inches from my mouth – what would she do if I moved her hair out of the way and kissed her there… just a light kiss… would it scare her? Would she even notice?

I soon fell asleep, and in my dream, I brushed her hair back softly and rested my lips there, but didn’t dare kiss her… I didn’t dare… 

I moved a hand to her hip, drawing her toward me just a bit more, her bottom settling against me and my legs meeting the backs of her thighs. The feeling of her skin on mine was incredible… not to mention the thin cotton of her knickers and my shorts the only thing between us.

In my dream there were no worries or thoughts of anyone hearing us – no surprise visits from my band mates; no inhibitions, no embarrassment and no guilt. There were no wives, no lifelong boyfriends, no reason to do anything but allow me to show her how much I loved her – and in my dream, she loved me too.

“Edge,” she’d beckoned in a low voice, in a way I’d never quite heard her say my name before. The room was silent and I was sure I could hear my heart beating right out of my chest right then; it was suddenly so very hot in the room – it was stifling. She shifted against me, her hand reaching back to my hip as she pulled me to her, grinding herself against me as she did.

I let out a long, slow breath, unable to control the heat building between my legs. She had to feel what she was doing to me – it wasn’t long before I was hard against her, my breathing uneven and hot on her neck.

“Edge,” she said in what was clearly now a low whimper. “Please…”

There was no mistaking what she wanted, her hips moving back to meet mine and her hand finding mine, bringing it to her mouth and taking one of my fingers between her lips. I pulled my hand away, moving it under her shirt and over the smooth skin of her stomach, my finger still wet from her mouth and running a damp trail down her belly. My hand soon found its way under the waistband of her knickers, brushing through the soft curls and down to her sensitive folds where I was surprised to find that she was already wet and ready for me.

She wanted me. It may have been just a dream, but her want for me was so vivid… so real… 

I entered her with a single finger at first, a deep moan escaping from her lips as I did. A second digit quickly joined the first, slipping in with ease as her wetness covered them, a soft curse escaping her as I began to stroke her deep inside.

“Oh Edge,” she murmured, “it’s you that I want… it’s you… I’ve always wanted you… oh,  _Edgefuckyes_ …”

Her dirty words went straight between my legs; she rocked back against me every time my fingers moved inside her and I was soon as hard as I could be – wanting to be nowhere else but buried deep inside her.

I wanted her so very fucking badly.

I grasped the fabric of her knickers with my other hand, easing them down to her knees as I pulled her back toward me, holding her still against me as I allowed the dampness between her legs to soak through my shorts. 

“Oh god, love…” I cried out, my mouth moving to her neck and my teeth nipping at her flesh.

“Edge… please... nowwww…” she whimpered, her hand reaching back to pull at my shorts. I was out of them before I could breathe, her hand quickly finding my cock and bringing it hard against her opening. I drew back slightly and put my hand against her back, coaxing her forward and at the same time bringing her hips backward at the perfect angle to let me slide right into her.

We both let out a moan of pleasure as I did, our erotic chorus becoming more and more needful as I stroked into her again and again and again...

“Edge… stop,” she said suddenly, her hand grasping mine as I buried myself deeply within her and held her there.

“What is it, love? Am I hurting you?” I asked, suddenly concerned.

“Oh god no, baby… I… I just want to see your face. I want to see your face when you come inside me…”

“Of course, love… of course…”

I pulled out of her reluctantly but before my body could continue its protest she had me pinned to the bed, crawling on top of me as she lowered herself down onto me. Her hands quickly pulled her shirt over her head and she leaned forward, letting me slip in deeper as my fingers flew to the clasp of her bra, quickly removing the lacy garment and savouring the feeling as her breasts fell against my chest. 

Her lips found my neck and her tongue ran along my jaw as she moved against me, my hands settling on her hips. Before I had the chance to kiss her, she sat up quickly, leaning back to give me the first glimpse of her beautiful body – her perfect breasts bouncing lightly as she rode me. The sight was enough to make me let go right then, but I bit my lip and held back, allowing her to find just the right angle to….

“Oh Eddddddge...” she cried out; and I knew she’d found it. 

I lifted my hips to enter her deeper still and she threw her head back, a wordless gasp leaving her mouth and her face lighting up with a joy that I’d only ever seen on a woman’s face a few times before. I could feel her tense around me and I found one of her hands with my own, her cries for me becoming more desperate as she squeezed my hand, letting herself relax as she finally allowed the feeling to wash over her. 

When she came back down to earth I was there waiting for her, gathering her into my arms as she fell against me. 

“Edge,” she whispered, “that was… oh God baby… why did we wait this long?”

I smiled at her and stroked her hair, kissing her ear and then pulling her into a deep kiss. 

So that was what her lips felt like on mine. Even more perfect than I’d imagined, no less.

I rolled her over as we kissed, still inside her and still hard as could be, hoping she’d come down enough to let me continue. I wasn’t done making love to her yet.

Her eyes met mine somewhere in the middle of our flurry of kisses, and I looked at her, waiting for her permission to continue.

“Your turn, love,” she said seductively, reading my thoughts and running her hands along my back, “I know you’re not finished.”

I smiled at her and began to move against her; she felt so good around me, and watching her face as I made love to her was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. It was a pure beauty that I saw in her eyes, and I knew right then that I would spend my days longing to see it in reality.

When I’d finally found my release she pulled me into her arms until my breathing slowed, her hands combing through my hair and her lips resting lightly on my forehead.

“I love you, Edge,” she admitted, so quietly she was almost inaudible.

 _But what were we to do now?_

I awoke with a start, disoriented and semi-conscious, trying to find my bearings. I rolled over and there she was next to me, sound asleep and blissfully unaware that I’d just had the most incredibly sexy dream involving her. I felt a pang of guilt deep down in my stomach; she’d come to me for comfort, and my thoughts had degenerated into nothing but a lustful reverie. A deep flush had overcome me, my cheeks hot with embarrassment over the outpouring of vivid sexuality I’d just witnessed in my mind’s eye.

Sometime during the night I’d released her from my arms and we’d returned to our own sides of the bed. I was most thankful that my subconscious allowed me that rationality, as I’d become quite aroused after having such a dream. I snuck stealthily from the bed to take care of things in the bathroom, and as I did I tried to think of anything but the woman who was fast asleep in my bed. Although she may have been going through a rough patch in her own relationship, she wasn’t mine to covet.

 _Thou shalt not …_

She was Bono’s.

I returned quietly to the bed, crawling beneath the covers and trying my best not to wake her. I’d failed as she stirred slightly, her eyes opening for a brief second before she moved toward me and laid her head on the corner of my pillow, her lips parted slightly as she fell fast asleep once again. 

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to imagine what would it feel like to kiss her. Would it feel as wonderful as I’d just dreamt it would? Just to bring her lips to mine and taste her slowly… her mouth looked so soft… so inviting… and right now it was only inches from my own.

When I was sure she was sound asleep I moved a bit closer to her, my lips hovering softly above hers as I closed my eyes, all of a sudden frightened that she’d open hers right then and all would be revealed. I brushed my thoughts aside – it was now or never. My mouth fell lightly onto hers as I gave her a single, feather light kiss. It took everything I had not to pull her against me and kiss her like I’d dreamed of ever since that day in Phoenix Park when we were seventeen.

But I turned away before I let myself do such a thing.

Some things just weren’t meant to happen.

* * * * *

 _Dublin – June, 1993_

  
The house seemed so empty without him.

He’d flown back to France last night to resume the tour and apologized for tasking me with overseeing the move. He did have his personal assistant arrange nearly everything and everyone having to do with it before he left – I merely had to sit back and ensure everything went off without a hitch; which it did.

As I lay awake after another sleepless night in a bed which felt so lonely without him, I felt the nausea rise in my stomach again. I never knew I could miss anyone this much – not since the days that Bono left for the US on their first couple of tours. I shouldn’t have been feeling this way; I should have been happy, knowing he’d be back from Europe in 6 short weeks, and he’d be coming back to me. After all, I’d been waiting for him all my life – I could do with waiting that much longer. Yet there was still something that made me feel uneasy, a fear rising in the centre of me that things wouldn’t work out – that Bono would never forgive us and I’d be in the middle of the destruction of their friendship. And I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.

It was only when I received my nightly phone call from Edge that I felt more at ease, his sweet, soft voice whispering through the receiver. 

“Where are you tonight?” I asked him. I knew exactly where he was, but I didn’t want to let on that I was missing him so badly I had the tour dates posted on the fridge, and planned to wake every morning and check where he was while I was brewing my morning tea.

“Paris. I wish you were here, love. I miss you terribly.”

“I miss you too.”

“What’s the weather tonight?”

“Horrid. Raining. Awful.”

“How was the move? All settled in?”

“You could say that, I suppose.”

“What’s wrong, darling?”

“Oh, nothing… it’s just… I just wish you were here. It’s so hard to sleep alone in this big house without you near me. It just feels… so empty.”

“Close your eyes, love…” he whispered, “and think of this…”

“All right…”

“Imagine I’m there with you right now, my arms around you, holding you to me.”

“I've been doing that for days,” I whispered, my palms running along my arms, his warmth pulling me to him in my mind.

“Darling, I wish there was some way I could spend my evenings at my shows, and the nights with you. I’m as lonely as you are.”

I giggled, and whispered, “except you have 50,000 people screaming your name every night.”

“Oh, love… all I wish is that just one of them was you. I can’t tell you how many times when I was on stage during the last couple of tours, so damn unsure of myself that I needed to look over at you, just to feel normal…”

“Oh Edge, you didn’t need me…”

“I did. I needed you. I couldn’t tell you then, but I did.”

I took a deep breath as he spoke.

“Ciara, I needed you, love… I can’t tell you how much I needed you…”

“I needed you too. I just didn’t know it at the time…”  


  
* * * * *

After those particularly awful first few nights of insomnia, I’d made an appointment with my doctor – if only he could give me something, anything, to help me sleep and cope with the upheaval I’d been through as of late.

After giving me the usual checkup and a prescription for a light sleeping pill, I received a call from his nurse the next day.

“Ciara, Doctor Thompson would like to see you. Are you free this afternoon?”

“Well, yes… I can come straight away – what is it?”

“He’d like to see you himself, Ciara. Will half-one work for you?”

“That will be fine… I’ll be there.”

I hung up the telephone and went a bit cold. Was I sick? Was there something wrong? I worried myself all the way there in the taxi, and found myself even more distraught in the waiting room, drumming my fingers against the table as I awaited my fate..

“Ciara McFarlane?” the receptionist announced at last, and I felt dizzy as I stood and walked down what seemed to be an endless hallway to Dr. Thompson’s office.

To my relief he arrived shortly, his face difficult to read as he gazed down at the clipboard in his hand.

“I’m so glad I was able to fit you in – luckily I had a cancellation. This is always something I prefer to tell my patients in person and not over the telephone if possible.”

“What is it?” I said anxiously, my heart thudding away in my chest. Whatever this was, it was big news. Too big to tell me over the telephone… 

“Ciara, the reason you’ve been feeling so ill and not yourself as of late… is that you’re with child.”

It took me a moment to form words. I rewound the events of the past month and a half in my head. I knew I was a bit late, but I’d put it down to the stress I’d been under given the circumstances. It wasn’t entirely unlike me to be off a bit here and there with all the travel I’d been doing lately – a different time zone every week wreaked a bit of havoc on your system, after all. 

“But… I can’t be… I’m taking…. I don’t remember missing any… are you sure?”

“Yes dear, I’m sure. There is always a small chance… Now we’ll have to do some more tests, but with what you’ve told me about your cycle, I’d say you are about 6 weeks along…”

I remembered those few endless days I’d spent with Edge, where I’d lost track of time… and routine, for that matter. I  _may_  have forgotten… just  _one_ ….

“Ciara you know it’s not my business, but I’ve known you ever since you were a wee thing. Is the father… that musician? His name escapes me right now, I’m sorry, dear.”

“Yes,” I gulped. The less I’d said, the better. I could barely comprehend things myself right now, let alone try to explain to another person. There would be no questioning who the father was in my head. 

“Oh dear. I’d read you had a falling out with him, I’m so sorry. I know you were with him for a very long time. Sometimes a baby can change things for the better – they can be wee little miracles… it may change things between you. Do you think he’ll understand? ”

“I’m not sure if he’ll understand.”

I wasn’t sure that Bono would understand this at all. There would be no doubt in either of our minds that it was Edge’s baby – how was I ever going to tell him?

“I’m sure he’ll understand, Ciara. Some things were just meant to happen.”

 


End file.
